


Shattered Halos

by Chaniis



Series: Of Falling Stars and Angel Wings [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Body Swap (Good Omens), Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Has Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley is Angry at God (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Imprisonment, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), POV Raphael, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Psychological Torture, Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Stars, The Author Regrets Everything, The Fall (Good Omens), The Night After the Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Raphael, Torture, Trust Issues, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), crowley/raphael - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaniis/pseuds/Chaniis
Summary: The Apocalypse To-Never-Be came and went and the forces of Heaven and Hell are not pleased. Crowley and Aziraphale barely make it away from the military based before they are captured by the each other's respective head offices and taken to each other's respective plains of existence. While Hell's obvious course of action is to make the more-or-less holier than thou angel fall, there's a lot more nuanced planning going into the halfway ethereal demon's punishment in heaven. Especially if said demon has quite a...delicate past in his place of imprisonment. Separated from each other by an ineffable distance and trapped with not so much as hope of every being released. Aziraphale and Crowley must come to terms with their fate, pasts and, the quite possible possibility of never seeing eachother again.That is, unless someone from Crowley's past can manage the impossible.In which Crowley and Aziraphale are separated. Where Crowley must finally face his demons (without his beloved angel by his side) to have any hope of survival and, Aziraphale must face the ever present question; "are angels and demons really that different?"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Raphael (Good Omens)
Series: Of Falling Stars and Angel Wings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788985
Comments: 40
Kudos: 57
Collections: The Good Omens Library





	1. And Then There was Us

Crowley 

Crowley remembered creating the stars. He remembered how they felt in his then-delicate hands. Like ice -because he simply had wished them to be- against his then-soft skin. He remembered cupping the shell of Alpha Centauri, bringing it up against his smooth and rosy lips. He remembered the flutter of his eyelashes as he breathed life into it. All the love he poured from his heart to his creation that made it burn bright blue against the inky blackness of space. But, above all, Crowley remembered tossing it -not like one might toss a football. More like one might gently lift a dove into the air- He tossed it farther and higher than any human could throw, out to its proper place among its brethren. He remembered watching it expand with the brightest light he’d ever seen. And the warm wind -because there is wind in space if you try hard enough- that resulted, rushing through his long-read hair and around his body. He remembered spreading his pearly white wings, letting the wind catch and fling him back into space where he caught and rode the breeze. It had been euphoria, to stand spread out against the night and let the birth of a star envelope you. To Crowley, it had been the ultimate form and feeling of Love back then, even bigger than Her’s. Or, what he thought was Her’s.  
Because Crowley was sure now more than ever that Her Love was not really love at all.

\- 

Crowley, fallen angel, Wiley serpent, and original tempter, felt himself waking up from a most pleasant dream. One of stars and above-heavenly Love. One upon a time, waking from a dream so pleasant wouldn’t have devastated him like it did now. Once upon a time, waking up meant breathing in the lingering warm smells of books, gingerbread, and vanilla and the sounds of breakfast being prepared by the owner of such wonderful smells. The light would be warm and soft and the covers, silk, perfect for slithering under until his angel came to get him for breakfast. Now, all Crowley sensed was the scent of Windex and unscented soap coupled with harsh florescent lights and a hard tile floor beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself with everything he could to fall back to into slumber, to safety and to stars. Bad things happened when he was awake (bad things could also happen when he was asleep but he wasn’t there to experience them so he paid that not bother). But, it was cold and he was wearing nothing suitable to keep it from being so. The serpent in him urged him to get up, to find a source of heat. It was searching for something it thought it ought to have. It was searching for Him…Crowley didn’t dare think His name for fear of breaking down again and humiliating himself when they came. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried not to move but, it was so bright with the lights reflecting off the white tile and he didn’t have his shades. Oh, how he missed his shades…and his warm bed and his warm clothes and slither spots that kept him safe and fortified when he felt less than such. And Him…

Footsteps 

Crowley’s eyes shot open causing shooting pain around his eyes from the intrusion of light but, that wasn’t the greatest concern. He scrambled back, heart racing and blood pumping, against the corner farthest away from the miracle-locked door leading out of his bright cell. He prayed to someone that those footsteps, so familiar in their stern and steady pace, would pass him. But, like every day for the past how long, they stopped, their silence almost as devastating as their sound, in front of his door 

He once again squeezed his eyes shut. If you asked him later about it he would say it was because the light was too bright but, really it was in fear of who was behind that door- and what they would do to him. 

In the couple seconds before he was exposed Crowley did his best to gather his mind up as best he could given the circumstances. He was, of course, in Heaven but, not as an angel or even a guest. As a borrowed prisoner, a gift, an item in a trade, from Hell. The room he was in was his bleak cell that housed only a small cot and a small indented patch in the floor where a showerhead above could pour water that was swiftly miracled away before it hit said indent. The cot was mostly a formality as beings of Crowley’s sort didn’t need to sleep. They didn’t need to eat or do other human activities either hence the lack of other amenities. He appreciated the cot- as must as a prisoner can appreciate. That why he stayed far away from it when he hid, barely ever even slept on it. It might be taken away then. Heaven loved to take things away from him…

The flat sound of the beep of the door being miracle open yanked Crowley from his thoughts and back to reality. Back to the sight of a brown haired, borderline middle-aged man in a 3-piece grey suit and a purple tie. He wore a fake, dentist advertisement type grin on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. Not a hair was out of place, each nail manicured, his perpetual five o’clock shadow looked pristine. It sickened the demon, all that plasticity in one corporation. What sickened him more, however, was the color of his tie. Lately, Gabriel had taken to color-coding Crowley’s punishments with his ties…  
“Crowley” he said in an I-beat-my-wife-when-you’re-not-looking type of way, “you’re up bright and early, ready to face the world?” his flat American accent made it all the worse. 

Crowley only whimpered. His eyes snapped closed again and he ducked his head between his knees, his body bending in ways that would be unnatural for a human. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, soon everything would hurt again.

He was trying so hard to be brave, you know. But it was so hard to be brave nowadays after, what he guessed was weeks of Gabriel, weeks of heaven. Weeks of cold and sterile and pain. Weeks away from Him and His safety...He felt the tears of terror and shame come on again as he sat there, pressed so hard against the wall that he might indent it, shaking under his tormentor’s intense gaze.

Gabriel clapped his hands once, “Great we’ve got a big day today, lots on the schedule, wouldn’t want to be late.” he snapped and the bracelets on Crowley’s wrists, thick bands of chrome metal, sent a powerful shock through Crowley that made him cry out in pain and sit bolt upright against his will.  
The archangel caught his glowing, serpentine eyes. Crowley glared at him, the shock doing what it always did and bringing out his demon nature. It was a trap, an invitation for more pain. he knew that but, he fell for it every time anyways. He hissed and spat at the archangel’s feet 

“ssssuck it, angel” he hissed and struggled to his feet. His skinny legs were even skinner now and that sometimes made it hard to stand 

He got where he wanted to be, only to be knocked back by an even stronger force. His head cracked against the wall and he began to see black. He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that if he passed out Garbiel would just leave him there until tomorrow. No luck, a smaller shock brought him back to consciousness. 

“Crowley, Crowley” Gabriel drawled “we’ve talked about this, haven’t we?”

Crowley seethed; fear not quite sinking in yet “Whatsss it to you, angel?”

Gabriel tutted -as much as the Archangel Gabriel could tut- “Oh Crowley,” he waved his hand, and Crowley was thrown at Gabriel’s feet by another, more powerful shock that had him writhing.

He'd fallen on his face, a loud crack, and shooting pain and wetness indicated a broken nose. Not the first time and he could have dealt with it if Gabriel hadn’t put his foot on Crowley’s head and pressed hard enough to break a human’s skull. The screams of the shock turned into sobs and wails at the incredible pressure. He felt as if his skull would implode and he’d discorporate on the spot. There’d be so much paperwork and they'd be so angry if he discorporated. that only made him wail louder. Gabriel chuckled. They chose, quite often, how much Crowley’s bone could take before breaking, keeping the serpent on edge. 

He fought, for a while to get away before finally going limp underneath the foot. He’d done it again, gone and cried in front of someone. It made him want to cry more. He probably did but, the pain distracted him from any further thought. He vaguely felt himself being lifted onto a hospital bed by two lesser angels and strapped down. He vaguely felt it rolling. Someone put a tissue on his nose. 

By the time he finally came back, he saw the foreboding chrome doors of The Room insight. His corporation writhed again, panic soaring through him at the sight of today’s fate.  
He wanted to run  
He wanted to hide  
He wanted to even just change form  
But he couldn’t do any of that. He could only writhe in terror as they passed the swinging doors and entered Crowley’s own personal hell. 

~

Aziraphale

Aziraphale was trying very hard to stay Angelic through It all but, it wasn’t easy. Hell was damp and dirty, and there were the nastiest bugs everywhere he looked. Even in his little cell, they’d stuck him in, rather rudely, without another word. It had all been quite frightening, being captured after what seemed like a victory -stopping Armageddon and all- He had thought…well, he had thought their respective head offices would deal with them when it came to that, not the other way around. Aziraphale was familiar was Heaven, with their ways and with their methods. He was completely lost here and he didn’t like that one bit. Not to not to mention how it smelled down here. Like rotting things, like death. How could He have stood it? Then, well, Aziraphle supposed He didn’t. 

The only sense of time the angel had was his daily meal -that’s if you could call some mush and stale bread a meal. It was also his only other-corporation contact. No one had spoken even a sentence to him since he’d arrived four weeks ago. There was only Wooden bowl in, wooden bowl out of the same creaky slot in the doorway. The same hand, covered in maggots, bringing it to him every time. The angel, so used to the delicacies of earth, was painfully hungry from the lack of nutrients and yet to develop a taste or even stomach for the stuff. Especially when sometimes an occasional maggot fell into the bowl as it was being served to him.  
But Aziraphale knew better than to not eat it. The first time he’d let it go uneaten, about 3 days into his “stay,” he hadn’t received food for an entire week. While angels didn’t normally need to eat, Aziraphle discovered quite quickly that a miracle had made him need to eat. He’d almost cried in frankly humiliating joy when he’d seen the bowl appear the next week. Since then he’d made sure to eat every last drop in fear of offending them and becoming so thin that his corporation wouldn’t function anymore. And he was thin now, not quite terribly so but, getting there. His beautiful suit hung around his midsection where it had fit perfectly before.

Then there was the matter of his cell. A damp, dirt floor that smelled of sewage, coarse rusty walls that burned when you touched them and none, absolutely no, ways to groom himself. It had been a month since Aziraphale had last had a proper bath with his favorite vanilla-scented bubbles and vintage rubber ducky. How he missed being clean, of having deodorant and cologne and other humanley pleasures.

All he had here was a burlap mat on, not even above, the dirt. So unlike his comfy four-poster above the Bookshop. Sometimes, the poor angel would wake up to a beetle or two making its way across his chest or- Heaven forbid, his face. He shuttered at the thought of one crawling its way into his mouth at night. He’d been told by…well, a person very dear to him that he snored sometimes so, that was quite the possibility.

And the waiting was just as draining as the lack of food. A month of nothing. Was this it? he quivered at the thought. If they were going to kill him- really kill him, not discorporate him- why hadn’t they done it yet? Were they waiting until he was too weak to even have a hope of escape? That was likely. This was Hell and they were demons after all. 

But by far the worst of it was that he didn’t know if that so very dear person was alright. If He was getting on. Of course, he knew in his heart that Crow- that He was not alright or getting on. Aziraphale’s heart could have burst with worry, it had never been so strained before with fear. The fear of what was happening to his Dear Boy his partner and his best friend. Heaven was not known for its subtlety -neither was Hell but that’s beside the point. And there were so many things Gabriel was willing to do to keep order. Aziraphale had heard only whispers but he knew. The only thing keeping Aziraphle even a little sane was knowing that He was still alive. As long as Hell kept Aziraphle alive, he had to have confidence that Heaven would keep Him alive as well. If only for pride’s sake. The two realms were all about outdoing each other after all. Killing one would only end that particular competition of suffering 

Aziraphale's hands twitched, he bit his lip and went over to the far side of the cell. There was no mention of a door in the little room, he didn’t even know if they would ever need one. There was, however, a ridiculously small window that let in a pathetic amount of light. Barely enough to read, if he had a book…oh he loved books…

He shook his head to stop himself. No use thinking about such frivolous things as books at a time like this. Not when Crow- He could be suffering. If Aziraphale could, he would miracle himself up to Heaven right away, storm in there and take his poor sweet Boy back to the Bookshop for a warm cup of cocoa and a pleasant dream of whatever he liked best. But, the heavy irons on his wrists prevented it. He couldn’t do so much as miracle himself a sandwich, let alone travel to a higher plane of existence. 

A thought echoed in Aziraphle's mind, almost taunting him. Where was Adam? The boy has just ridden off with his friends to face the wrath of his human father when the head offices had attacked. Why hadn’t Adam sensed their distress? He was the antichrist after all, and he did still, to Azirohales knowledge, have powers. Aziraphale hoped he was alright…and hoped maybe he would come looking for Aziraphale or Him soon.

A knock startled him out of his thoughts, he jumped back just a little, involuntarily. Part of the wall farthest away from him broke away, crumbling into thousands of cockroaches that streamed from the room. Aziraphale shuttered. The hole revealed a tremendously frightening looking fellow -Perhaps anti-fellow was the right word- with sunken, deathly pale cheeks and goo that seemed to ooze from several spots on his pockmarked face, on his head sat the body of a frog. Aziraphale remembered this man as Hastur, the demon who had terrorized Him on earth towards the end of the apocalypse.

Hastur’s eyes raked over Aziraphale with unkind eyes, he sneered “boss wants ya” Aziraphale noticed the cigarette hanging from his slivers of lips. It looked used, very used.

He did his best to swallow down his fear and discomfort. Best to be polite. “I would…quite l-like to speak to your boss as well…good fellow.” He bit his lip, speaking a bit at the end there. Why had they come for him now, and why did the first person he saw have to be this? 

Hastur sneered “Angels, ever the” he stopped as if he needed time to work out the next word “nice” he settled for after a minute.

He may seem dull to a point of harmlessness but, Crow- He had informed Aziraphale that Hastur was a volatile and cruel as he was stupid.

‘C’mon, and don’t try and run. Lots of demons ‘round these parts that’d love to get hold of ya” he waved a finger lazily and chuckled manically at that.  
Aziraphale nodded, he took a shy step forward, twiddling his thumbs involuntarily. His heartbeat seemed very loud in his ears all of a sudden.

Hastur grumbled something about “bellow his pay grade” and sauntered off with a very frightened Azirpahle in tow. If he had to guess, Hastur was taking him to see Lord Beelzebub. The Leader of the forces of Hell. They were a puzzle, He had told Aziraphale. Very one dimensional in the way a living thing could be. They were ruthless though and Azirpahle would have to tread lightly. 

He hurried to get closer to Hastur. In any other circumstance, he would rather be halfway across the universe from this fowl being but, true to his word, Azirphale could hear low growls and whisperings coming from corners where demons might be lurking, waiting… That’s why, even when he stepped up to his ankle his a very squishy, unpleasant goo that he didn’t ever want to know more about, Aziraphale didn’t stop for even a moment of the dark walk to whatever fate awaited him.


	2. Of Angels and Demons

Crowley

Crowley’s head swung around vacantly as the angels sat him down in a cold mental chair and strapped his wrists firmly down. They attached a gag to his mouth. He blinked several times in the harsh light, willing the pain of a broken nose and cracked skull to clear even a little so he could get a grip on his surroundings. It was still horribly blurry, all he could make out was the smug figure of Gabriel surrounded by bright white light. He heard Gabriel say words which he couldn’t decipher and, the cruel laughter of an angel near by. He had half a mind to be panicked -but that half felt very loosely attached right now. 

With that failed, he focused his attention on trying to guess what they would be showing him today. That was no use of course, he could never guess. Even the color-coding Gabriel put so much thought into were only lose representations of broad concepts. Purple for physical, blue for psychological…pink for…pink for…he couldn’t remember. He thought that maybe Gabriel would change the system sometime just to confuse him more. Angels were, he was finding out, predictably unpredictable (at least when it came to dealing with Crowley). And flicking through the Library of Alexandria that was the possibilities, only made him want to cry again. The idea of that was so humiliating that he was almost thankful when Gabriel interrupted his thoughts. 

Gabriel came close to Crowley. Some lesser angels were busy strapping his legs to the chair. A band was wrapped around Crowley’s head, putting pressure on the break in his skull. 

Crowley hissed as well as he could, then regretted it when a swift kick to his right shin made him jerk adjust the head strap. His vision sparked, he went limp, willing himself to pass out again but, Gabriel’s voice brought him back,

“That looks painful,” Gabriel taunted. Behind his somewhat relaxed smile was a sneer and his eyes held contempt for the demon, and delight as his suffering.  
Crowley stared at him and blinked a few more times. It was hard to see details…he flexed his hands in his restraints, hating the way he couldn’t move, it made the pain worse somehow. 

Gabriel just shrugged and stepped back so a blindfold could be placed on Crowley’s eyes.

He visibly relaxed, the light was somewhat muffed through it. If he was at all lucid he might try and object to losing that primary sense but, he wasn’t, and so he just let himself be turned completely helpless. What could he even do about it now? and oh did he hate himself for thinking that way. 

Gabriel chuckled “well, no need to stay for all the gory details It wouldn’t be very angelic of me to watch.”

Nothing about you is angelic, Crowley wanted to say. 

As Gabriel turned and left, another angel stepped into the room to begin. 

~

Aziraphale

The trek to Hastur’s boss was seeming to be endless at this point and, although Aziraphale was doing his best to try and keep up, he kept sinking in something…that goo from earlier. Every time he stepped in it, his mind went wild trying to guess what it was and, every time, Aziraphale bit his tongue to distract himself. By the time Hastur finally stooped at a very dreary looking set of double doors, Aziraphale was positive he must have drawn blood. 

Hastur knocked a quite silly thing that Aziraphale may have chuckled at in the past, a demon, knocking. He made no movements, he kept his eyes locked on the door. Not even daring to look at Hastur even a bit. Of all the comfy, cozy, and celebratory things he could be doing right now, someone had chosen this for him. He did not have the slightest idea why because, in Aziraphale’s mind, he and Crow- Him, had done rather the right thing to do when one hears about the coming End of Times; try and stop it. Aziraphale could understand the disappointment, of course, but he didn’t understand why that disappointment was there in the first place. Why were they all so eager to fight again? What happened in the last war was bad enough. He sighed audibly, earning a look form Hastur. Aziraphale supposed it was because…because they didn’t have anything else to exist for. 

He didn’t get any more time to think about it because;

“Come in” a voice vibrated through the damp space, sending a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. That was definitely Lord Beelzebub.   
Hastur smirked and, quite rudely shoved Aziraphale into the room. 

It was dark, it was bleak but, above all else, it smelt of decay. Aziraphale suddenly felt very much more uneasy than he had been before. It was like…the very core of rot was in this room. It surrounded him, he felt muffled by it's sheer presence alone. 

‘ACK!” he had to cough, and it wasn’t proper though, he wasn’t very sure that anyone could hear it over the tremendous buzzing sound coming from the center of the room.

An angry “hmm” drew Aziraphale’s attention to that very place. His nausea suddenly grew tenfold.

The person no, the Demon in front of him was sounded with hundreds of flies, all landing and taking off from their pot marked and boil ridden face. Scraggly black hair…a permanently disgusted look…Beelzebub was worse down here than Aziraphale could have imagined. His stomach did another flip, he squeezed his eyes shut. His hands balled into fists behind his back. Aziraphale wasn’t used to ugly things. Nothing ever in his life had been ugly, not like this anyways. Living on earth had its ups and downs of course; there was the very beginning when proper hygiene was little more than a myth, for example. And, of course, Aziraphale had faced evil before; The Nazis in 1941 had left a permanent scar on his soul. However, they were mortal, and dead. They were being punished. Aziraphale was an angel, he had never had to endure this much ugliness inside or out, this much eternal evil…

“So you’re the famous priiiincipalllityyy?” Beelzebub’s distorted voice taunted, drawing Aziraphale out of his thoughts. He jumped, quite high for a man such as himself. 

“O-Oh y-yes well- no- I mean…” he whimpered, trailing off when Beelzebub glowered. He kept his eyes locked solidly on the ground after that, his hands fidgeted with his sleeves.

Beelzebub let out a long sigh. They weren’t entirely thrilled with having to deal with this angel. Not in the midst of a panic in hell. The amount of time, and punishment, it had taken them and their team to settle the battle-ready demons down again was as much of a nightmare as about a million discoperations worth of paperwork. And now, here was the angel responsible for half of it. An idiot who had tried to avert the apocalypse. What creature in their right mind would have done that? But, of course, a deal had been made. Neither side was too thrilled at the prospect of having a traitor imprisoned in their areas. Not with all the vengeful demons- and angels- who knew each of them. That would have been a nightmare on top of a nightmare. So, Crowley had gone where he had no personal enemies, and Aziraphale had gone where that was the case for him. And now, Beelzebub had to pretend to care what happened to one of the other side’s problems. Not that they didn’t have a plan, they had a very good plan. 

They pulled out a report. Thick, dirty now but, obviously from heaven “You must have questions,” they asked “about the traitor, Crowley.”

Aziraphale winced. He squeezed his eyes shut again to try and get His image out of his mind.

“If you were hoping he’s been as ignored as you, you’re wroonngg.” They dropped the file at the foot of their throne. A cloud of dust sprung up around it, a stray cockroach scattered ‘see for yourself.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, he opened his eyes just a bit to peak at it, his sickness grew…he didn’t want to know. But, they way Bealzub had said it, told him to pick it up or else. So he did. He didn’t look at it, it felt like it was burning a hole into his hand.

The Lord barked an order at one of their guards “Take him back.”

Back? Back? “N-No, no wait…Lord Be- “

“Shut. Uupp” the Lord commanded 

A couple of demons grabbed his arms started dragging Aziraphale away. His suit sleeve tore with a loud RIIPPPP under the force of the opposing efforts, the momentary distraction was enough to give the demons a permanent upper hand.

“Wait!” he shouted but, the heavy doors slammed behind him. His pleas were unheard as he was sent back to his cell. 

~

Crowley 

Pain…Crowley was just couldn’t get used to physical pain. No matter how many weeks they’d been at this, his body never accepted his state.   
Blood was still running down his face, falling into his eyes when two lesser angels tossed the disgraced demon back into his room. Along the way, he’d, of course, spat the usual insults about demons doing it better, about how he was evil incarnate (or something like that) and that they didn’t scare him. All lies, of course, Crowley was terrified of these creatures. These fakes. These false do-gooders. He hated himself for that. He was Crowley, after all, and nothing had ever really scared him. 

Still, as he lied under his cot for the first time, watching a gash along his arm slowly start to close up, only so it could be reopened tomorrow, Crowley thought that he was right, had been right and always would be right about one thing; Demons and angels weren’t really that different. Demons and angels were both cruel…he thought that if Crowley deserved to fall then angels such as Gabriel deserved to fall.

Crowley had only ever asked questions…that was all it took to be a demon in the old days…asking questions. These angels…whey were they allowed to do so much worse? It was confusing…strange…ineffable…

He was a lousy demon, in truth, never much had the stomach for high-grade evil. Never done anything as bad as this and didn’t even think he would. 

“Are you testing me..?” he muttered, eyelids closing though sleep wasn’t even a thought in his mind “testing me again? All I ever wanted was free will, and you’ve gone and taken it all away…” She's taken everything away... He thought, not even daring to entertain the idea that she may not ever give it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Okay so this took forever, I'm so sorry, writer's block hit me so hard. But, I just rewatched the series so I've got my inspiration back! thank you everyone ft the kudos and comments on the last chapter, it means so much to me that you liked it. I promise there are more updates coming soon and, enjoy!


	3. Helpless

Aziraphale

Aziraphale stared at the folder which he had neatly placed as far away from his mat as possible. All that was running through his head was ‘why..why why and why had they chosen this for him?’ he didn’t want to know any of it. It made him sick to even think about the possibilities. And knowing for certain would only make it worse. He was powerless to stop any of it, he’d feel even more powerless if he knew what he couldn’t stop. Yet…he was also desperate to understand. The folder seemed to add a layer of heat to the damp atmosphere of his prison. Not a pleasant heat like a warm fireplace or hot cup of cocoa but, a heat that burned into him as if it had eyes.

Never mind could he read it, should he?

Crow- He would be furious, of course, if the angel ever were to read it. He wasn’t the sort of demon who liked to talk about His past, Aziraphale knew this from countless blasé rejections of conversations Aziraphale hoped to have 

“You were an angel once” he had said and He had responded “that was a long time ago” in such a way that Aziraphale got the idea that he should never bring it up again. And, when Crow- He had said “I don’t want to be forgiven” well…Aziraphale’s heart hadn’t ached so terribly since their 1862 fight. So, if Aziraphale were to know what was done, and were to try and comfort Him when he saw Him, and he would see Him again…he didn’t want to think about the push back he would get. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He fidgeted with his sleeves, his ruined sleeves…he felt a deep pang in his heart. His suit that he’d kept in tip-top condition for nearly two centuries, and now one of the sleeves of his jacket hung uselessly on his arm and- what was he doing? How could he be thinking about himself at a time like this! Shame crawled up his neck;

Selfish 

He stood up abruptly and began to place from wall to wall with the hurriedness of one who is considering doing something immoral.  
What to do? He would know what to do, of course, Crow- He always had a plan, always was ready to jump into action and just-

Aziraphale found himself hovering over the folder and almost fainted. Instead, he stared at it with the emotion one gets when looking a forbidden fruit say, an apple. This particular apple wasn’t by any means the juiciest in the orchard by any account of the imagination. Nothing to sin over. But, sometimes, the best apples are only the best because they are in reach. 

It wasn’t as if he wanted to read the thing. It was more of a need, a desperate, desperate need to have some semblance of an idea of Crow-His suffering. So that Aziraphale could help him when they saw each other again. So Aziraphale would know how to help him. So he wouldn’t have to ask his demon questions. The last thing he would want to do was bring up whatever memories the demon had of his time there…

Still, Aziraphale hesitated. Caught between the world of horror and the ich he desperately wanted, needed to scratch. And, of course, Crow- He would just…jump into it, consequences be damned, Aziraphale thought. It was the quality he most loved about his demon. His recklessness, his disregard for authority. Now, Aziraphale just had to use that same mindset, just for a moment…just to open the cursed pages up…it shouldn’t be so hard…

Wincing, he bent down on shaky knees and rested his hand right above the nightmarish object

“Its what He would do..” he muttered “He’d just…get on with it…” he squeezed his eyes shut and snatched the damn thing up before he could think about it for another moment. Within a millisecond he’d flung it open to the first page, the title. It read 

FILE TYPE: RECORDS, COPY  
DATE: AUGUST 8TH, TWO-THOUSAND, AND NINETEEN TO PRESENT  
SUBJECT OF INTEREST: CRAWLEY, DEMON- HELD FOR TREASON 

Aziraphale tutted almost involuntary. Of all the things to be upset about at present, His name being wrong on this official file made Aziraphale quite perturbed. Shaking the thought away, he continued onto the next page which held a short descriptor of the apparent treason. The phrase “moronically assumed he could change the divine plan” stuck another quill in Aziraphale.

He flipped through the pages, giving most of them a once over as the consisted almost entirely of observations of Crowley’s behavior, along with the date and time of each. What struck him, quite immensely, was the last date which logged a copying of the report that would go to hell. There, in Times New Roman 12 point font was the date;

January 30th, 2020

Aziraphale almost dropped the folder.

Five months…five whole months away from his demon…five whole months of Him in that place…in Heaven, without Aziraphale’s protection…he felt sick.  
“Oh my dear boy…” his eyes misted “what have they done to you…”

He turned the page tentatively and his heart sank again. There it was the first page of a separate stapled packet with the word;

PLANS

“Plans” he whispered so softly that it was barely audible. This was the itch he needed to scratch, that he didn’t dare touch.  
He took a shaky breath, hand trembling as he mustered up the courage to continue. “You’ve come this far…”  
He sat down on the mat, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes for a few seconds to prepare himself. He flicked it open, like touching the page was like touching hellfire.

~

Crowley 

Crowley sat under his shower, letting icy cold water fall down around him and over his closing wounds. Some were not closing, of course, and would require proper medical attention. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. The demon, like his serpentine nature suggested, was almost completely cold-blooded. He could feel his body temperature dropping slowly, his cooperation starting to feel weak and lethargic. His teeth chattered, such a human thing. He was hopelessly human here, defenseless. He loathed himself for it. 

Even so, he didn’t dare leave the shower until he was clean, no matter what it was doing to his body. It was on Gabriel’s command that he didn’t. well, it was Gabriel’s implied command. The first time Crowley had been dragged to that awful white room and then dragged back again severely less functional than before, he had simply curled up in a corner, sobbing at the intense pain that clouded his vision, and his mind. And he has waited. For what? He didn’t know. 

He had expected that they would just leave him there, with his wounds which seemed to all be healing at different rates, and that they would simply heal that way. Much to Crowley’s surprise, someone had come in at some point in his dazed state. They had a medic cart with them and Crowley would have almost been relieved if he hadn’t been so on edge, ready to strike. Of course, he’d tried that and of course, he failed. Not because the healer made any effort to stop him but, because Crowley himself was too weak to move. And, again, to his surprise. The healer had simply given him a once over, scoffed, then left. Leaving Crowley feeling like he’d been stabbed in the gut (again). It had taken him a good many days to figure out that Gabriel wanted him to shower first, to “purify himself” as it was. The haughty bastard. 

Crowley had not fallen long enough ago to not remember that Gabriel was openly disgusted at any form of humanity. Especially any human functions such as bleeding or…or…he let his mind wander for a split second, back to a blissful time, before slicing his own tongue with his fangs to bring himself back to reality.

“Do not think,” He hissed at himself “do not think about him or you will ssssurely be undone.”

No, best not to think of the past when the present was a constant threat.

-

The medic came and went. As always, Crowley was not sure whether to love or hate them. On one hand, his mortal wounds were healed, his corporation back in working order, his physical misery subdued. On the other, before they miracle them away, the healer was instructed, Crowley assumed, to do just about every painful human cleaning and stitching ritual imaginable, adding more unnecessary agony. Hate for Gabriel pooled in his gut when he thought about it.  
Crowley sat back against the cot when it was done, his arms wrapped around himself once more in a protective position. He looked down at the stark white floor of his cell, at his naked feet. There had only been four toes on there an hour before, now there were five, one miracled back after they’d sliced it off for trying to kick his tormentor. 

“Five,” he counted and moved onto the next “five more.” It was his ritual, something real he could ground himself to, that his corporation remained the same. “Five” he wiggled his left hand’s fingers, a deep pang in his heart reverberated through him. He could barely see the tan line anymore…  
No no no, he pleaded desperately with himself. Don’t think on it…but he was already missing the ring, His ring…the one He’d bestowed upon Crowley over fifty years ago.

Soho, 1967. The official beginning of the two of them, the shifting to a real, tangible thing as opposed to the vague subtext of a relationship they’d had before.  
“You go to fast for me, Crowley” the angel's voice echoed in his head, they still stung now, after all these decades. 

“Well, I can’t bloody well go too fast for anyone else!” He’d shouted down the Soho street, body half hanging out of the Bentley after he’d gotten over the initial shock of the nerve the angel had had to say something like that to Crowley of all people, of all beings. 

And He…He had…listened. For the first time in his life, the angel had bloody listened to Crowley and turned around. The rest…well, the rest had resulted in a ring, and a night…the most perfect night…

Tears were running down Crowley’s cheeks at the memory, a wretched sob tore through him and he doubled over on the freezing floor, his arms wrapped right back around him again. He wished ever so hard that he wasn’t here in Heaven, in this room. Naked, humiliated, and lost. He wished it was 1967, he wished he was in the Bentley, he wished He was next to him…he wished so hard that he almost, almost clasped his hands together in prayer.

~

Aziraphale 

Aziraphale never wanted to read anything ever again. Okay, perhaps that was an overstatement but, at the moment, the very concept of words had been utterly ruined by the horrible descriptions what Heaven did, was doing, and planned to do to his demon. 

Aziraphale had only gotten about two paragraphs in before vomiting the first time, then only about a page more before he had to stop entirely for a good hour. The ink was newly smudged with fresh tears as he forced himself through another page. 

Mind control…humiliation…weapons tests…and a section he’d only skimmed because the word “sexual” had been involved and he wouldn’t even entertain the thought.

“My dear boy…” his hands brushed along a section about manipulation. He could almost hear Gabriel’s voice behind the cold, uncaring descriptions of the vast amounts of ways to inflict pain on a victim that scattered these unholy pages.

Worse still was that he didn’t, Aziraphale couldn’t understand…they, Heaven, were supposed to be the nice ones…All this was what Aziraphale expected to happen to himself, not to Crow- to Him. This is what hell should be doing, the thought was almost a plea. This is what morally corrupt beings do, not…  
“Angels?” voice in his head asked, accusatory. For how many times had his lover expressed that they, angels and demons, weren’t all that different. Aziraphale wasn’t quite ready to accept that yet. He had to hold out hope. 

He shook his head solemnly and glanced back down to the thick packet. He wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that his lot wouldn’t-couldn’t do such a thing as this.  
Then, something wonderful, something hopeful hit his desperate heart and he leaped up in weary excitement. What if demons were the ones doing this? Well, not really doing it per se but, making Aziraphale- Tricking Aziraphale into thinking that this was Heaven’s plans for His dear boy? It was entirely possible, he thought, that this was all part of Aziraphale’s torture. It was a good idea, a possible reason…a very logical and fitting possible reason. Because, why would Heaven do these things? These things that were most certainly above it.

Yes, that was right, they- all at once, he paused, gears clicked again, this time the correct way. his body went limp. He sank to the floor, eyes brimming with tears of utter horror. He was so stupid, so, so stupid. 

“Oh” 

Demons had no imagination, that was something he’d been told by his demon once. Said demon had gone onto brag that he had an imagination, of course, and that the rest of the lot were a lot worse off because they lacked it. And there was the fact that the style of record-keeping was distinctly Heavenly…demons didn’t keep nice records, mostly just scattered papers. Something Crow-He had always complained about. Demons couldn’t do it so perfectly like this, not so seamlessly that it’d look like the real thing. And then…Aziraphale had been too afraid to pay it much attention then but, Lord Beelzebub had been wearing gloves when they handled the folder. The folder clearly…clearly was doused in heavenly light, Aziraphale could feel its warmth -not the burn he'd felt to open it, its aura of love and light- A clear message that this was the real deal.

His heart sank

For a brief moment, he considered that hell had commission Heaven to fake the report but, Aziraphale knew one thing about angels that would never change; they did not lie. Gabriel, who had clearly typed this, most of all did not lie. For he was the messenger, and the messenger of God would never lie. 

It was all true…it had to be. Otherwise, Aziraphale wouldn’t he dry heaving, willing himself to not pass out from the pain deep in his heart.

For the millionth time that day, he felt utterly helpless. What was he going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! sorry that the chapters have been a bit on the short side. I wanted to get a couple out for you to read right away because from now on they're going to get a lot longer (and darker). That is a warning that several of the following chapters are going to contain major violence, manipulation, and other dark themes so, if that's not your style then thanks for reading thus far. I'll put chapter warnings in the notes, of course.
> 
> That being said, thanks for all the positive feedback and kudos being left. It's really cool to be creating something people are liking. hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Raphael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I'm going to start doing these)
> 
> Crowley learns just how much Gabriel is capable of. A new player is introduced, as well as some old friends.

Crowley was spiraling. If it was from the pain, humiliation or reminders of the past, he did not know. But, he was definitely spiraling. His cries that had been mournful sobs only minutes ago, now took on a haunted, wailing quality. He could feel his fingers yanking as his hair which had already grown out to his shoulders over the past how long. He fucking HATED having hair like that here, in this awful fucking place. It was just one of many reminders of Them, the other name Crowley couldn’t, wouldn’t dare speak out loud ever again or he’d surely die.

“grRRAHH!” he slammed his first down upon the floor he hated so much. 

“So THISSSSSS isss it, huh?” he wailed “Thisss, your Great Plan foR ME?!” his neck was craned so far back and had been flung there so hard that the position would have snapped a humans neck. 

Why had this happened? Why all of a sudden had he plagued himself with these useless memories? Was it part of his torture? He wondered. Did Gabriel do this to him somehow? Invade his mind? Control is thoughts? He stuttered, the very thought making him feel violated, disgusting. He was a failure

Unforgivable 

No, not that memory-

A surge of anger wracked his trembling body, He captured the sides of his cot, so feeble under his bruising grip. It cracked under the pressure and he roared something horrible, something otherworldly when it did. 

Fuck this cot, fuck this place, fuck this hair 

Fuck Heaven and Gabriel and Rap-

“NO”

He screeched a demonic sound. His Corporation shook with an attempt to use so much power that his shackles seared his flesh like a hot iron pressed up against a deep cut. He screamed again. This time from pain and ripped his hands away from the cot to claw desperately at his ornaments which were swiftly heating up. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, to lose control like this. He really, really hadn’t. 

Footsteps

Crowley froze, wide serpentine eyes glowing with fear and panic. It almost overrode the pain. He knew the punishment for this sort of thing. He’d bore it once before, he couldn’t again. 

Gabriel came strolling through the door, his figure was like a black omen. There was a less than pleased expression on his face.  
Crowley’s gaze met his, pleading.

the doors closed behind the archangel, leaving the rabbit alone in the room with a tiger. The aforementioned rabbit had taken to curling in the fetal position, gripping his smoldering flesh. 

Gabriel sighed and snapped, the burning vanished but the wounds were still there, open and bleeding. Gabriel looked at them in disgust.  
“I-“ Crowley tried, desperate to explain himself.

“Shut your mouth.” The archangel ordered. 

Crowley fell silent but he glared through wide, horrified eyes. Waiting in anticipation, in terror.

“I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, demon.” Gabriel snapped “there’s a reason you’re here. Trying to break out is not part of the plan” his eyes fell to the cot “and breaking your gift?” his voice was laced with fake hurt. So fake it was plastic like the rest of him. 

“I-“   
A powerful shock sent him against the wall, he howled, hissing with renewed anger. 

“Dammit, Crowley,” Gabriel stepped closer “you just will not learn. Five months of this and we can’t seem to get it through your thick skull that this is your new home.”

Crowley’s eyes flashed, that bit stung worse than just about anything Gabriel had ever said to him. Heaven, God, the angels had all rejected him, tossed him out like garbage. They'd all watched as he fell into a pit of burning sulfur. As his wings burned and charred. He had been left to rot in a bottomless pit. His home? Please.” what escaped Crowley’s lips was unhinged, bone-chilling demonic laughter that had even Gabriel stunned for a second or two.

“M-My home?” Crowley just barely got the words out “Y-You lot made it pretty clear well over sssix thoussssand years ago that thisss isss not my home.” He snarled at Gabriel through bloodshot eyes, his wrists started to burn again, his crazed howling only briefly muffled by the realization of more pain.

Gabriel’s first kick was hard enough to break one of his ribs. Crowley did not stop laughing, he felt as if he couldn't stop.

By the 10th kick, however, Crowley’s laughter had come to a halt. Replaced with whimpers and tears, the occasional crazed chuckle.

The archangel wasn’t stopping. Something in Crowley told him, or maybe he sensed it, that Gabriel was different. What was usually methodical, swift, and unfeeling discipline now felt more…unhinged, unbridled…personal. A chill ran down Crowley abused spine. 

What was happening?

-

Gabriel was cruel, he had always had a way to make someone feel like garbage with just his words but, Crowley was finding out the Gabriel was straight-up abusive himself, he didn’t need anyone to do his dirty work.

“Wings out,” Gabriel ordered 

Crowley let out a pained gasped, he was backed against the wall, Gabriel’s hand has was closed tightly around his throat, crushing the windpipe he hadn’t needed up until that moment. He shook his head as best he could, attempting desperately to wriggle out of Gabriel’s grip. He could…he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to show Gabriel his wings.

“Come on Crowley, I don’t want to have to force them out.” Gabriel’s expression was one of false calm. Inside, Crowley knew he was holding back from discorporating the demon on the spot.

Crowley hissed, a mistake because the last of the air he possessed left his lungs. His head started to feel very foggy, his vision blurred at the edges. He knew they’d be furious if he discorperated. Most likely, they’d kill him for real when he got his body back. Still, that fear wasn’t enough to prompt him to let his wings out on his own. Wings were as precious to angels as they were to demons. They were the first and most important signs of belonging to something unearthly. For angels, it was Heaven. For most demons, it was belonging to a promise to cut Heaven down. For Crowley, they were a reminder of the angel he had once been. They were the only good part left of him. The only part that had healed right after the fall…they weren’t all ragged and torn up like most demon wings. They were still whole…he could let Gabriel take that away from him. Even as he felt his cooperation start to lose life, he refused.

Gabriel looked like he was about to do something worse when, his phone dinged. Sighing, he sent a surge of electricity through Crowley’s body to hold him back when he withdrew from the demon to check. Grumbling profanities, he shoved it in his pocket and stood up.

Crowley, was, despite being in tremendous amounts of pain, was sobbing gratefully, at the phone of course. His deep breaths ended up making him more lightheaded as he desperately tried to come back from almost death.

Gabriel sighed “I’d hoped to finally get you thinking straight but, an emergency has just come up. Oh well.” He gave him a once over “Don’t think this punishment is over just yet.”

Crowley’s frantically beating heart almost stopped. Of course,…how could he have been so stupid. 

Gabriel made a noise that sounded vaguely like a chuckle and strode out. He locked the door and pressed a button. A fine mist, blue in color started to float into the room. It inched toward Crowley, who was uselessly dragging his shaking corporation across the floor to try and escape it. Heavy tears ran down his black and blue face.

“No, please no,’ he choked out. “Not again…”

The mist rolled towards him. Every inch of his exposed skin was already starting to burn just from being near it. 

It was holy water and Crowley was trapped inside with it. 

~

Raphael- 5 hours earlier 

The archangel Raphael, great healer, and creator of the stars had been having a horrible day. actually they’d been having a horrible 6000 or so years. But that was beside the point. For starters, there was too much paperwork. There was always too much paperwork. And they didn’t even want to think about the mile-long list of places on earth they had to visit just this week alone. Why did humans have to be so breakable? Dropping their pencil back, they put their head back and groaned, running a hand up their face and through their long red locks. They twisted their hand through the thick mass and tugged to try and wake themself back up a bit.  
“I need a vacation,” they said, wistfully, closing their eyes and trying their best to conjure the stars. Oh, how they longed for the warmth of Vega, their favorite dwarf star to visit when they wanted to rest and recharge. They went there every few centuries at least. They smiled coyly at the mental rush of flying through the burning mass. Feeling something strong for once in a century or two. All their worries, duties, and the blandness of heaven fading away to be replaced with solar flares.  
A knock interrupted their daydream

Sighing with contempt, they miracled it open. They only barely managed to hide their distaste for the archangel who stood in the doorway. 

“Hello Gabriel,” they said through a tight-lipped smile “more reports?” straight to the point. Gabriel was probably, no, definitely Raphael’s least favorite thing, concept, and angel of all time. 

He nodded, setting a rather large stack of prayers down, his eyes painted with false sympathy. The two had had a very contemptuous relationship for the past 6000 years. Ever since Gabriel had crossed a line that his sibling considered unforgivable 

“You should have fallen instead” Raphael muttered almost inaudibly they thumbed through the various cases of humans begging God for their own lives, begging Raphael. If they hadn’t been so focused on Gabriel’s unwanted presence, they would have felt bad for humanity.

“Excuse me?” Gabriel raised one perfectly done eyebrow at his sibling. 

Raphael turned the look with a reproachful grin “Nothing, simply overwhelmed is all.” they gestured to the copious stacks of paper to make a point. Gabriel seemed to accept that answer. While there was no question that he had definitely head exactly what Raphael said, he obviously wasn’t looking for a fight today. Raphael was glad for that. 

“Mm, well as they say, no rest for the forces of Heaven,” he clapped Raphael’s cool, mental desk on its glass top before heading out the door.

“That’s not what they say” Raphael huffed. They let their head down on the desk with a slight bang and let out a rather perturbed sigh. Pompous idiot.  
They hadn’t yet locked the door again when Gabriel poked his head back in “Oh, and Raph, we have a mandatory update meeting in” he checked his watch “forty-five minutes.” The door shut with a bang that was a little too hard to be accidental.

Raph? They took a deep breath then stood up and, one quick movement, swept all their papers off the desk. That’s it, they were heading to Vega as soon as that God-forsaken- or God willed they guessed- meeting was over. 

Raph? Disgusting, they made a mental note to never let anyone call them that again. 

-

They decided to leave their office a mess and go for a walk. They rolled the sleeves of their blue tuxedo shirt up to their forearms and slung their dark grey jacket over their shoulder for later. Just a quick stroll to clear their head before having to listen to Sandalphon drone on about whatever. Raphael didn’t care, they didn’t spend enough time actually in Heaven to care. Besides the former Principality, Raphael was the only angel who made meaningful visits to earth. They had to visit the country of America so much due to their failure of a healthcare system, that they had an apartment there.

And, it wasn’t as if they had any real help either, no. All the other lesser angels went around keeping Heaven running, preforming minor miracles on earth and other such things. Heaven was so backed up nowadays that the roughly million angels Raphael had once had under them were now diminished to only about 100. Far too few to keep up with all of earth's ills. 

They grimaced. There had once been a time where humans were healed of their sufferings, where Raphael had the time to stroll throughout cities- at a leisurely pace of four hundred kilometers per hour- finding mortals who hadn’t prayed, who hadn’t had faith, and healed them anyway. Because that, they once believed, was what Heaven was supposed to do. Now they were bureaucrats and even the believers didn’t all get the help they needed. 

It was exhausting and disheartening.

They stepped outside onto the balcony and withdrew a cigarette pack. It was magic, each cigarette lasting precisely as long as Raphael wanted it to. Looking twice for onlookers, they lit one and brought it to their lips. Technically, this was contraband. Heaven didn’t allow earthly substances within its walls. No one was ever watching through and Raphael refused to go all the way down to earth just for an occasional smoke break. 

“Funny how many people I’ve healed that got cancer from these little shits.” They said to no one in particular, chuckling to themself. A little relief could go a long way in improving their mood, if only temporarily, no wonder so many humans owed their deaths to this habit. By the time they’d finished up the thing, their watch went off. Meeting time.

“Yippee” they huffed, Miracleing away the magic cigarette away and any scent of smoke. 

Raphael strolled lazily through the hallways, managing to kill about five whole minutes before they found themselves at the board meeting door very much on accident.. They were considering saying “fuck it” and going off to earth to handle a children’s Cancer ward that was nagging them when, Michael spotted them. The archangel waved them in with a pointed look that said “Gabriel won’t be happy.”

Raphael didn’t give a damn about Gabriel but, he liked Michael well enough. She was just as stuck up as any archangel but, her manipulative side intrigued Raphael. It was different from the bland, straight forward bureaucracy of Heaven. 

They sighed, tied their jacket around their waist to piss off Gabriel and strolled into the meeting room. 

Gabriel stopped midsentence to stare at them “You’re late.” 

That was so like him, such a stickler. 

“Yeah, sorry” they shrugged and plopped into the seat Michael saved for them.

Gabriel looked like he wanted to protest but Uriel reminded him that they were on a schedule 

“Right, uh, Sandalphon you were about to give us an update on the Anti-Christ” 

“The Anti, Anti-Christ,” Uriel corrected. He’s just a boy now thanks to those two.” Uriel looked as pissed as usual. It seemed that that angel was constantly annoyed at someone. 

Ah yes, Armageddon. What a disaster that had been. It was the reason why Gabriel was so on edge, more on edge than usual anyway. Raphael hadn’t exactly been looking forward to Armageddon per se. The first Great War had been traumatic enough. Enough carnage and death had occurred in Heaven and Hell. The archangel shuttered, remembering the fall. How their whole being had burned with the need to rush to the sides of the damned. Burning sulfur wounds and broken wings were the most notable but not only injuries the soldiers had sustained…injuries Raphael could have healed. A deep pang of guilt hit them. 

‘Raph? Raphael?” suddenly, two fingers snapped in front of their face. They blinked a few times, reaching up to touch their eyes they realized they almost expressed an undesirable emotion 

“Uh…” They looked up and frowned at a less than impressed Gabriel. His purple eyes were shining with rage. “What?”  
“The Anti Anti-Christ, Raph, is he healthy?” he snapped.

Shit, they might have forgotten to check that item off the list. “Oh…yes, a perfectly healthy boy, last I heard.” They threw one leg over the other and brushed their hair back, glancing back up at Gabriel with a causal expression. They weren’t about to lie to Gabriel, one did not simplify do that. 

“The last you heard? Are you serious? This is fucking son of Satan, Raph, you should know for sure.”

I’ve been busy,” they drawled “Paperwork.” They couldn’t really say that they were upset that they forgot. It was just another chance to mildly piss of Gabriel. They flashed twinkling eyes at Michael who gave him a less than impressed scowl back. Raphael could tell it was cover a smirk.

“Well,” Gabriel couldn’t manage to conceal the vibrations of rage in his voice “Get down there and find. out.” He turned himself back to the rest of the angels “And fix your outfit, you look absurd”

“Right, might as well go now, get the details back as quick as possible.” What a stroke of luck, easily the best thing to happen to them all year, if Gabriel agreed.  
Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue again, but he just sighed “Michael will brief you on the meeting when you return.” 

Raphael just shrugged and strolled out. A pleasant visit to earth, what a nice surprise.

-

Halfway to the escalator, They heard the pattering of feet. Michael came up behind them, an almost smile on her face. They stopped to let her speak.   
“You forgot this” she handed them the address of the famous Anti-Anti-Christ.

They gave took it and gave it a look over, “Thanks, don’t think I’ve ever been to…Tadfield?” they read off the card then started walking again.

“Neither have I. You know,” she stepped in front of them “you could try a bit hard to not make Gabriel angry, he works hard just like the rest of us.” Her voice was laced with apprehension.

They scowled “You know what he did,” they tried to go around her but she mirrored them.

“6000 years ago, Raphael, isn’t it…time to…you know..”

“I can’t move on, she didn’t deserve what she got.” They miracle themself closer to the escalator but Michael did the same, earning a look of annoyance from her friend.

“Zadkiel can hold her own grudges, Raphael.” They said, paying no attention to Raphael’s expression.

They picked up the pace immediately, their heart ached at the mention of her name “That’s enough, Michael…”  
“But-“

They turned around “I’m serious, don’t spoil my good luck with your advice. I’ll decide when there’s been enough mourning.  
Michael considered that for a moment, then rolled her eyes just slightly “Have a good time on earth.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” they stepped onto the escalator and began the miles long descent.

-

Zadkiel…Raphael hadn’t heard her name in since before the garden. A selfish part of them resented Michael for even daring to speak it. As if that name was for their lips and their lips alone.

Zadkiel…The archangel shook their head to try and erase the memory. Before they knew it, they were at the bottom of the escalator and in the mortal world. Raphael took a quick moment to distract themselves by checking themself in the walls reflective surface. They weren’t feeling the bright orange bowtie today. A quick miracle transferred it to their hair. 

“That’s better,” They gave themself a small wink. They liked feeling feminine on earth nowadays. Something about adding a few human binaries to their life made them feel better about having to deal with the monoishness of Heaven. “In fact…” another miracle turned their white pencil shirt to a maxi. “Perfect.” Nothing matched, Gabriel would absolutely hate it. 

Ignoring a strange look from an older English man, Raphael walked out and got on the bus to Tadfield that miraculously decided to be there.

They sat next to an elderly woman who was clutching to a picture of an older gentleman. A little voice in Raphael’s head urged them to be nosey. They peered, without making any effort to be inconspicuous, over her shoulder to look at it. The woman looked up at them with a start

“Young lady, did your mother not teach you any manners?” she snapped. She stuffed the picture back into her purse and set her gaze forward, her thin lips in a tight scowl, a usual look for her Raphael guessed.

Raphael feel a tingling sensation up their spine that told them there was a reason they wanted a look at that picture. Luckily, they weren’t one to shy away from asking questions. “That’s your husband, isn’t it?” they said, gently.

Now, this old lady was not known by her family and ever decreasing group of friends, plus the local market cahier, to be a kind soul but, something about the way Raphael had spoke to her struck a chord inside her cold little soul. 

“He…has terminal lung cancer, I’m on my way to visit the hospital. I brought him his favorite sweets, like I do every time.” She paused, her eyes were wet with the threat of tears. Likely, she was trying to work out why she was saying all this. eventually, something in her gave up and she continued, “E-Every time I go…I am afraid that he will be gone when I arrive…45 years and I won’t even get to say goodbye.” She appeared miffed at the sharing. Raphael’s presence had a tendency to encourage humans to admit their need for healing.

Raphael smiled to themself. The tingling subsided. They closed their eyes and brought their hands together. A gentle breeze came from within them and fluttered out. It would make its way to the hospital and start to do its job repairing the man’s body. Within a week, he’d be in remission. Before the woman could comment on their actions, the bus came up to their stop. She gave Raphael a mystified look then shuffled out to see her husband. Later, she would swear on her life that the strange women she’d met on the bus had been an angel. No one would believe her, of course but, it would do a little bit of good for her heart. 

Raphael would have preferred to touch him directly, mending his ills right away to save the woman more pain. Unfortunately, Raphael was pressed for time. They didn’t want Gabriel upset enough to call them in for a reprimand. 

That would be torture. No, this would have to do. 

After what seemed like forever, the bus stopped in Tadfield. Raphael smiled when they got off, taking a deep, refreshing breath. The air was pleasant here, the hum was more natural, unlike the hurried buzz of an overcrowded city. It was snowy white, perfect for a earthly January. Raphael chuckled as a few young children whizzed past them, skates in hand. Wintertime usually equaled so much suffering…they liked the love it seemed to equal here. It didn’t seem like the kind of place the son of Satan would be reared. Then, they thought, it hadn’t meant to be.

The pulled up the address ‘Adam Young, #4 Hogback lane, Tadfield.' Raphael considered, for a moment, they could just go for a walk around the village, maybe an hour or so, then go back to head office. Surely if the boy was anything less than healthy, the area where he lived wouldn’t be so…nice anymore. Probably not the best idea, Raphael didn’t really know how the Anti Anti-Christ actually worked. They lit a cigarette and went on their way. 

Along the walk a quite angry looking fellow came quickly up behind them “Miss! Miss!”

Raphael turned around. “Oh! Hello,” they said with a smile that was genuine. “I didn’t see you there.” The man was stout with a big grey mustache and very angry looking eyes, like he had no other pleasure in life besides getting annoyed at people. 

“Well I certainly saw you!” he huffed and wagged a finger at them as a father might toward an unruly child. “I don’t know where you’re from but, in Tadfield we have children with impressionable minds.”

It took a second to occur to Raphael that this man was talking about their cigarette. They sighed, this nosey type of human was their least favorite. 

“Don’t you know that kind of behavior is bad for you! It's all over the telly, you’ll give yourself cancer!” they shook their head in disbelief. “Such a young person being so reckless!”

Oh the irony. They almost chuckled, thankfully they didn’t because that would have made it worse. By now, the man had picked up his tiny dog to keep it from winding its leash around Raphael’s legs. It was obvious that he was preparing for a full-blown lecture.

“Now, In my day-“

Not wanting to spend any more time with this unpleasant man, Raphael said “Wonderful weather today, could you perhaps point me to number 4 Hogback Lane? I’m visiting a friend.” Raphael smiled pleasantly and adjusted their skirt.

The man all at once seemed to sort circuit, he opened his mouth, brow furrowed in protest but, what came out was just a startled ‘I-Indeed it is, miss. Hogback Lane, eh? So you just, well you go up this street right here see? And you look for a dent in the fence well, not exactly a dent, more like a big hole. You’ll know it when you see it. Then it's just two rights and a short stint down the road there.”

“Ah, thank you” they smiled “perhaps you should do a little something for yourself now, huh?” they put a hand his shoulder like one would an old friend. Heal this mind, they willed. Warmth spread from their fingertips and into the man.

He suddenly got very uncomfortable looking though he didn’t voice it. He shrugged Raphael off and said contemplatively; “Uh, well that’s that then. Good day young miss” 

They watched him go off in a hurry, knowing that by the time he got home, he’d have the sudden desire to do something fun.

Raphael continued on, enjoying the sparkling snow and glittering icicles dripping from barren trees once they’d made it into the wood. The come and gone morning sun that normally would have melted some of the wonders away hadn’t seemed to touch Tadfield at all. 

It was so peaceful, the ideal landscape for a stroll. They’d have to remember this place for if they could lucky enough to have time to come back here again.  
“hauGH!” Halfway down the road, they stopped in their tracks almost on instinct. A familiar burning washed over them. Someone was in immediate peril. They fell to their knees, the shift from calm to a rush of heat knocking them down on all fours. 

“Wensleydale!” a girls voice shouted. Raphael heard a loud crack and another scream. The sloshing of water...

“Oh my god! Oh my god he fell in! Brian get your mum! Adam, get a stick we have to pull him out!”

Raphael was there before they could remember to not teleport. They appeared amongst three frightened children. One shouting for another to “Bloody move” while the other, a tall boy, stood still. He was in shock. The source of the fear was a boy sized hole in the ice. And a young boy who was desperately clawing at the ice around the hole he was swiftly being dragged under. By the color of his bluing skin, he’d probably been there for over a minute. 

Raphael grabbed hold of his hands and shouted at all the children to back up. they heaved the boy out of the water and frantically started ripping his water-soaked layers off. The poor thing was shivering like mad, their eyes alight with fear. Raphael knew enough about people, however, to know that simply making him right all at once would cause way too much confusion. Instead, they opted on holding him close and letting their body temperature start to warm him up until he could get proper care. 

They stood up and looked to the kids “we need to get him indoors right now. he needs to be warm.”

No one answered. The children only stared at the archangel before them.

"Well?!" Raphael shouted.

“I-I know a place!” the tall one with brown hair suddenly woke up from his shock to proclaim.

“Great, take us there now if you want him to live.” It was harsh, they knew that but, these stupid kids had to learn somehow. What if Raphael hadn’t happened to be here? This small boy would most likely have been swept under the ice. 

“R-Right” he took off, the others got the same idea and ran alongside him. 

Raphael followed after. He could sense their worry, their fear. Or…they could sense two out of three’s fear. The other one, a golden-haired boy, was surprisingly calm for someone who just watched his friend almost drown under the ice. Maybe it was shock? Raphael couldn’t quite convince themself of that. An eerie feeling seemed to settle in him, a chill hos cooperation normally would not register. 

“I don’t understand! The river was solid last year!” the girl exclaimed “what’s going-“

“Be quite, Pepper,” the boy with golden hair commanded.

They arrived at an impressive-looking cottage, all covered in snow and ice like a fairy tale. The tall boy and his female friend, the one who had been shrinking, ran up to the door and started banging on it furiously. 

“Anathema! Anathema!”

The boy shivered violently in Raphael’s arms. They heated up enough to melt the snow around their feet, hoping no one would notice. 

A woman, mid-twenties perhaps, swung open the cottage door with a wild look. “Pepper, Brian, Adam wha-“

“He fell in the river!” the girl, Pepper, yelled.

Anathema gasped, she locked eyes with Raphael who was staring at her with urgency, “He needs a fire, new clothes, and a bucket of warm water. Hypothermia probably won’t set in then.” Raphael ordered. 

With a nod she ushered them all inside the house and ordered Pepper to go get a blanket while Adam and Brian got a bucket. She started on a fire but, before she could do much it lit ablaze in the fireplace. Raphael assumed they’d done that accidentally but, to their surprise, no one said a word about it. 

In record time, the shivering boy was stripped of his wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket with his feet stuck in the water. The firelight made shadows dance across the room like spirits doing an ancient dance. Raphael was kneeling next to the child, a hand pressed firmly on his head. They closed their eyes and sent a prayer up to mend the damage. His shivering slowly subsided, his eyes growing heavy with the exhaustion that comes from almost dying. Raphael kissed his forehead and murmured a blessing to be safe from all harm. 

They stood up at stepped away only then noticing that all eyes were locked on them, boring holes into their skin. 

The golden-haired boy spoke first, “Who…are you?” he looked more disturbed than anything. Raphael found that odd.

They didn’t know how to answer that one.

“Yes, and how did you get Wensleydale out of the river so fast?” the girl, Pepper demanded.

“I-“

“And, actually, how did you know he was in danger so quickly? I don’t remember you showing up” said the tall boy who’d brought them there. His cheeks were flushed with adrenaline.

“Alright kids” Anathema hurried them to the other side of the room as she spoke, “let me talk to our new acquaintance while you look after your friend.”

The kids looked annoyed at that but, the Golden-haired boy said it was alright, so they didn’t argue. Another odd thing.

Anathema lead Raphael into the kitchen “Sit, I think I’ve got a good idea of who, or what you are.” Her tone was accusatory. Raphael got the feeling that they were definitely not welcome.

Still, Raphael sat cautiously and folded one leg over the other, they didn’t say a thing. They were hoping the guess would be wrong, or that she would look away so Raphael could just…leave.

Anathema pushed up her round glasses and gave Raphael a quizzical look “I’ve met someone like you before…two someones. No one is really sure but…well I think I met them during the apocalypse.” She paused to gaze the archangels reaction 

Dammit, she had it right. They kept their mouth shut.

“Two English gentlemen…one had read har, just like yours.” She finally continued. “I think…you’re going to think I’m crazy but, I think they were an angel and a demon. They had your same type of aura. I’m a witch.” She said with a coy smile, suddenly a lot surer of herself. An intimidation tactic for sure. 

Raphael wrung their hands, they matched the smile to show they weren’t easily intimidated. “Yeah…” they shifted, breaking the facade almost immediately, “I’m uh…an angel, here on head office business,” they hadn’t admitted their identity to any human for several hundred years, it made them uncomfortable.

‘Ah…” she suddenly got a very dark expression and said with hushed urgency. “What kind of business? Is the apocalypse starting again?” 

“Don’t be silly,” the golden-haired boy had walked in “they wouldn’t start another one so soon after the first.”

“Adam” Anathema stood up “I don’t think you should be here.” she glanced between him and Raphael like she was hiding something. 

“Why not? It’s my business.”

It clicked then and there for Raphael. The fire, the creepy feeling, the leadership of his group…his name…this had to be Adam young of #4 Hogback lane, Tadfield. This had to be the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. The Anti-Anti-Christ…

“Adam…Young…?” was all they could manage to say, a deep feeling of unease washed over them. 

He smiled like someone who knows he’s important. “Thanks for saving our friend, I tried to keep him up but I’m not that smart at my powers yet. Dunno what we would have done if you hadn’t been looking for me. You were looking for me as it was?”

“Yes I..” they were trying very hard to keep their voice from shaking ‘I was looking for you. Just a uh…checkup.”

“Oh” he looked disappointed, “Well alright then, I’m here.” he held his arms out then slapped them at his sides. 

The archangel and Anti-Anti-Christ stared at each other, neither sure what to make of each other, for a long time. Until Anathema finally asked;

“Would you two like some tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I adore the idea that Crowley was Raphael, I accidentally fell in love with a different interpretation of them ;)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this longer chapter. Raphael's section went through many different drafts and a lot of seconding-guessing myself (just writer things). The plot is starting to peak out a little and I'm super excited about that. 
> 
> Also, don't worry, Aziraphale will be back shortly, he's taking a bit of a break while we get this thing set up. Thanks for reading!


	5. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell and Heaven move in on their prisoners, Raphael gets some horrible news

Raphael- 2.5 hours earlier 

By the time tea was done, the two has resolved to sitting and staring at each other. Raphael out of nervousness and Adam out of wonder and also a little bit of anger. He was the first to speak;

“Why now…?” he scrunched up his face “I mean, you know what I mean.”

Raphael sighed and picked up their large teacup which had a black and white human symbol on it that Raphael couldn’t quite recall the name of. Zen…or Ying? Yen maybe? It didn’t matter.

“To…be honest…” they frowned “I’m not entirely sure, keeping up with you isn’t exactly my job.”

“What is your job?” he asked pointedly, like a kid growing impatient which, he was. 

“I heal people, I’m uh…” they glanced at anathema, knowing what they said next would provoke some anger in any rational adult “I’m the one who the sick pray to, who the prayers reach anyways.”

As suspected, the woman’s face grew dim, a question formed on her pink lips but Adam turned to her “I’m sorry, but I really need to speak to her first.”

“It’s Raphael” Raphael blurted out maybe a bit too loudly, red colored their cheeks.

Adam turned back to them “Raphael then.”

“Adam,” anathema stared but, Adam cut her off":

“Please, Anathema, there’s been nothing for five months…” he looked at her like a little kid asking a parent for some candy.

She almost argued but, ended up respecting his wishes She sighed and shook her head “I’ll bring some cookies to your friends, would you like a cookie?” 

“No thanks, but I’m sure Pepper Brian and Wensleydale will,” he took a sip of his tea, “Thanks, Anathema…”

She just nodded and hurried out with a tin of biscuits shed picked up from the market that day. 

Raphael stared into their teacup, a wave of uneasiness washed over them when Anathema left. It was just them and the Anti-Christ.

“The last time I met you lot,” Adam continued, “wasn’t very nice. They kept wanting me to harm people when I didn’t want to. Do they still want that?”   
“No…well, yes but, no,” they sighed “It’s complicated, Adam.”

“So explain it, I’ll make myself sick if you don’t. I’ll stick my head out there and give myself a nasty cold. Your boss won’t like knowing I’m sick."

They grit their teeth, they weren’t very keen on explaining that outright history of angels and demons to a child, supernatural or not. But, this was the Anti-Christ, Raphael didn’t even know if they could heal him if he got sick and, Adam was right, Gabriel wouldn’t like that. The fact that Adam even knew they had a boss was a testament to his power, Raphael didn't want to mess with that. 

“Fine, but it’s a long story, probably very boring…”

“I don’t mind,” Adam settled back in his chair with his tea and cocked his head “Go on then.”

-

“Whoa” Adam leaned forward in his chair when Raphael was done recounting the Great War “So they all really fell, just like that?

“Just…just like that…” Raphael coughed to cover the quiver in their voice. They rubbed their eyes to mask the tears hiding just on their water line. “They all became demons, just like your…father.”

“he’s not my father.” Adam snapped, his voice was dark.

Raphael winced “Right..” There was a long, thick silence following.

Raphael swallowed and shifted. their eyes were downcast to avoid Adam's piercing gaze. They suddenly felt very warm, not to mention the woozy feeling starting in their head. They always got like this when the Great War was mentioned.

“So?” Adam finally asked, snapping them out of it just a little.

“A-And so the d-demons, and the angels…well they want to get back at each other, you see? To prove who’s better.”

“That all seems very silly” Adam placed his now empty cup down, “I mean, why couldn’t they just fight somewhere else? Why does earth get dragged into it when we’ve done nothing wrong?”

He’s a smart boy, Raphael thought “I don’t know, Adam, it is all pretty silly…” they sighed.

“So you don’t want it then, another war?” he seemed surprised at this 

They shifted awkwardly “No, not really…I don’t like seeing people hurt…” their stomach turned as the screams started to echo in their mind, the scent of burning flesh sprung out at them again and they shuttered, the sickness increasing. A red sky, pleading voices…pained sobs…Zadkiel pleading…

Their mug fell from their trembling hand and shattered on the tile. The sound was enough to snap them out of it a little.

“Shit!” they stood up fast enough to send the chair crashing to the floor with a loud BANG. They nervously kneeled down and frantically started to try and clean up but, it was everywhere, and their hands were still shaking so much that they couldn’t grip the pieces. “Shit, Shit I’m sorry-“ tears were falling before Raphael could stop them, the liquid missing with the spilled red tea. Red like blood…their vision clouded 

Anathema came rushing in with the children ‘WHAT-“ they saw their cup “oh, oh no its alright miss.” She went over and carefully took Raphael's hands to help them stand up “Its just a cheap cup I got a long time ago.”

Raphael yanked their hands away as if anathema would burn them. They furiously wiped their eyes and said in a quiet but definite voice “L-Listen, I'm sorry but I have to go, I shouldn’t have stayed this long.” They looked around for anything they might have left but everything was still blurring together. 

“But you just got here,” Pepper stated, and we didn’t get to meet you yet.”

“M-Maybe some other time.” Their voice cracked “I need to get going, my boss is uh- expecting me back. He doesn’t like it when we’re late” they started for the barely visible door but Adam got in their way.

“But, you still need to ans-" 

“Not. Now.” they snapped and pushed past him, the movement making the stumble and almost fall. “You’re too young anyway, this stuff isn’t for you. they turned to Anathema briefly “Y-You’ve been a lovey hostess but I just…need to go” 

“But I-“ Adam tried but, Raphael was already out the door. 

“You should have just saved him and left,” They chided themselves as they trudged through the snow that suddenly felt as icy as it would to humans. “He’s just a boy, he shouldn’t have to worry about why this and why that. Hell, even you don’t really know why and you lived it.” They felt very cold, a sudden chill wracking their body, different from the human cold. It came from the worry of what would happen to Adam now that he’d had another brush in with the ethereal. Would seek more answers? How would he go about that? And…what if he summoned the wrong thing? They glanced back at the cottage then shoo their head. “Forget it, just tell Gabriel he was fine and then don’t go back there. Adam will just go on living how he’s been.”

Another wave of wooziness made Raphael pause. Their body swayed and they stumbled against a nearby tree to take a break. It was only then that they noticed their breathing. It was ragged like a person who just ran a marathon. Why were they even breathing and, why was it so cold too? Those were human sensations….  
“Wait! A female voice called. It was Anathema. 

“Shit,” they cursed. Anathema was definitely something else. Raphael had a feeling that she would actually do something stupid to get whatever answer she wanted.

Anathema arrived, heaving and panting, barely dressed for the weather, holding a small piece of paper. “Wait…here…” she held it out to them and shook it “Just…tale a look at-at that and let me know if you recognize them.” She seemed desperate which was confirmed by the fact that she didn’t notice Raphael’s state. “They’re…like you and” she took a deep breath “I can’t feel their energy…anymore…I’m a- I’m a witch.”

Raphael took a deep breath to try and steady themselves. Their vision cleared a little as they looked out to scan d the surrounding area for children waiting to ambush. They hey took it, hand’s still shaking. 

“Fine.” Just give her what she wants and you can go back to your office and rest. 

They folded the paper open and looked down at the two faces. Both appeared to be men in their late 30’s early 40’s. one was wearing a cream three-piece suit while the other was dressed like a rock band reject. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes and his red hair was-

Red hair? Their stomach twisted in a different kind of way. “Y-You said they were…like me?” their voice was barely a whisper. They recognized that face…that hair…only one other ethereal being had hair like Raphael’s.

“Yes,” she panted, “Angels…or demons, they were there when we saved the world.”

Oh no

The paper burst into flame in Raphael’s hand, they quickly threw it on the ground and stomped on it, the force enough to dent the dirt between the snow. What was once hazy panic now sharpened into red alarm, an angry panic prickled through them.

Anathema barely had a second to open her mouth before Raphael seized her dress front and was yanking her towards them, full force “What were their names!” their voice was a low growl, a primal angel tone to it. One that fitted their ethereal form that they were fighting to keep from changing into. the last thing they wanted was this girl dead.

Anathema squeaked, she tried to pull away but Raphael had her there, their grip like iron. 

“Names! Now!” Raphael was never one to get violent but, they needed to be absolutely sure that the horror in their mind wasn’t true.

It cant be true…

“I-I don’t know!” she cried, eyes wide and body stiff with fear. 

‘Yes you do!” they yelled “you wouldn’t care about them if you didn’t!” they shook her a bit, doing their best not to do it so hard that her brain was damaged. “Tell me or I’ll blast you into the sun!” empty threats, Anathema didn’t know that though.

Her pupils darted around frantically; she was searching “Azira…Azira something I-I’m not sure!” 

“Just the one in the black! That’s all I want.” They said tightly.

“Uh…uh…” she was trembling now. “uh…fuck I, they didn’t really say much uh…I think It started with a C? Craw…or Crow-Crowley! It was Crowley!” relief sprang across her face, a few tears brimmed in her wide eyes. 

Raphael’s grip went slack and a look of utter horror come upon him 

Crowley

Oh God no, Crowley was the name of the traitor demon that Heaven had imprisoned. Raphael knew this but…Raphael; had never actually seen the traitor before, they’d skipped those meetings. The world seemed to crash down around them there and then as Anathema stumbled back and fell into the snow. Crowley was in Heaven, Crowley was the traitor. Raphael couldn’t forget that face for the world. Crowley was Zadkiel, she was in Heaven and God only knows what Gabriel had done to her. 

~

Aziraphale- Present

Aziraphale was still reeling from what he’d read when two demons entered his cell and started dragging him somewhere. The dragging had more to do with the fact that Aziraphale was so distraught that he could not stand on his own than anything else. He wasn’t fighting. Even if he could, if he had his powers, he didn’t think he’d have the strength. No, he just stared vacantly in whichever direction they jostled his head. He briefly wondered if these two foul creatures were taking him to be killed, he wouldn’t put it past Hell to do so, to kick him while he was down. 

Instead, they ended up at Lord Beelzebub’s door again. Aziraphale thought he should be scared but, he felt too numb to really be so. He was taken in and pressed down into a kneeling position a few yards away from the throne. The ground was sticky, covered in the same disgusting goo that he’d kept stepping in on his first trip here. If his suit hadn’t already been torn, if he’d been in the right mind to care, he would have worried about stains.

“Azzziraphale” the Lord's voice reverberated through the room “Ivv’e heard you’ve done what we asked.” Their eyes raked over the despondent angel with annoyance. This would all be easier if the angel hadn’t been so in love or something like that, with the traitor. The nuances of what Beelzebub was planning were a real bother to actually go through with.

Aziraphale was looking down at the dirt, a fat earthworm that usually would have made him wince crawled dangerously close to his knee.   
“Wellll?” 

It took a second and much mental convincing, but Aziraphale managed to murmur dejectedly “Oh…yes…” his shoulders slumped.

“Yes” they sneered through, a hint of twisted glee mixed with it. “and it makes you angry? Makes you furious?” There was a glint of enjoyment in their eyes. 

“It…makes me sad…” it was a whisper. Aziraphale’s big blue eyes blinked back tears. What was the Lord doing? What kind of torture was this?

The glint faded. The demons on either side of Aziraphale exchanged words of confusion. Grief was not a common emotion for a demon. Anger, disgust, triumph, and hatred yes. Grief, sorrow? No. 

“What’s he mean, Lord? One with disgusting boils little yellow maggots were making homes in quarried. ‘What he going on abo-“

“SIIILLLEENZZZ” Beelzebub roared. They did not like questions, especially ones they hadn’t the slightest idea how to answer. 

The two backed up, slightly apprehensions at their Lord’s outburst. 

Beelzebub made a face that said, “stay in your wretched spots or else.” This definitely wasn’t the plan they’d set out on. They’d assumed that anger would be Aziraphale’s driving emotion and that that emotion would set him on the path Beelzebub had laid out. Perhaps they’d misjudged? Great, nothing like a mistake in front of other conniving rude, and deceitful demons. At least they were also pathetic, sniveling worms Beelzebub could crush in a human heartbeat.

They leaned Forward on their throne, practically bending in half in order to peer in disgust at the angel. “You what?”

“Sad…” he repeated “I’d hoped…ever so much that perhaps Heaven would…” Aziraphale shook his head. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear or utter defeat that kept him like this. Surely, he was meant to be at least making eye contact, meant to keep his chin up and not show his captor's weakness. 

Did it even matter? Aziraphale wasn’t so sure

Beelzebub BZZZED in annoyance, a vengeful look on their face, “I do not understand but, it dozzz not matter.” They leaned back in their seat. “You’ll be getting a show today.” At least this part could go on while Beelzebub redid their plan. what a pain. “Take him to ze room!” they ordered.

The demons smirked and before Aziraphale knew it, he was being dragged away again. 

-

The demon shoved Aziraphale into a rather large room lined with molding wooden chairs and rusty metal ones. Aziraphale noticed an old school TV set next to an older looking slid projector at the front of the room. At least, he believed it was old school. Human technology was always changing so fast, it was hard to keep up. That’s why he stuck to books, books didn’t change. 

They sat him down in the middle of the front row, the chair creaked. It likely hadn’t been sat on for a long time. The demon with the maggots plugged in the tv. Its wires were exposed and it made a quite frightening cracking noise when he plugged it in. the other, a short one with beetles crawling all over their flesh which made Aziraphale shutter, kept him there by gripping his shoulders with occult strength.

“You’ll like this, feathers.” The beetle informed in a tone far too foreboding for Aziraphale to even hope he might. Whatever they were showing him was likely to be incredibly horrific, Aziraphale was likely to faint.

“O-Oh…jolly good then,” he said anyways and wrung his hands nervously, a light, terrified chuckle escaped him.

“Shut it” maggot grunted and clicked the tv on, “angels talk too much. Comes of thinking you’re better than every else.”

Well, I am, Aziraphale thought but, didn’t dare say out loud. He shifted nervously and eyed the static of the TV. 

Maggots sneered at Aziraphale and banged the side of the machine. The screen flashed and settled on a live video feed.

It took Aziraphale a solid minute to comprehend what he saw, what he heard. It was Him, His demon…the volume was turned all the way up…it was his demon…the volume…

The screams were the first things that registered. They were…otherworldly, they made Aziraphale’s stomach turn inside out, his eyes grew dark and his skin felt very clammy all over. His beloved demon was hunched over, naked, in the middle of a stark white room. His skin was completely covered in blisters that oozed blood. His thin body shook violently. A blue mist surrounded him, obscuring the finer details. 

Aziraphale knew what that mist was…holy water. It was poisoning Him, Aziraphale was watching Crowley's slow death.

Aziraphale’s world seemed to shrink to that image of his loved one, he couldn’t look away. Even when he heard the demon scream his name louder than anything else. His heart shattered into a million pieces. Watching the demon, watching him claw at the walls of a prison cell, his body barely able to take the constant, engulfing sensation of holy water everywhere. On his skin, in his nose and mouth, in his lungs…

Aziraphale felt woozy, the edges of his vision began to blur and his head swung. The pain of one of the demons yanking his head up was enough to knock him out, unconscious on the damp and bug-ridden floor. 

~

Crowley- present

It was painful to breathe; it was painful to move. It was painful to even just exist in the space Crowley was in. holy water at its most potent was strong enough to destroy a demon with just one drop. However, if someone was to dilute it very, very much and, toss in some hellfire, one could put a demon in it with the same effects as a human being slowly burned alive, or maybe worse. 

This was not the first time Crowley had been meant to suffer the effects of the mixture. In the beginning, when he hadn’t fully understood his situation, he’d attempted to use his powers to escape. This was the punishment. He hadn’t tried anything else since.

Now, here he was again with no idea when it would end. Unlike last time, Gabriel hadn’t stayed in the room to watch. At least that, while humiliating, had given Crowley a way out. What if Gabriel forgot about him?

Tears streamed down bleeding and burned face. His whole body was covered in red blisters and burn marks that broke and bled at the slightest touch or movement. His head was swimming with delirium, he clawed helplessly at the handless doors. In the beginning, he’d banged and thrashed desperately against it. Now he couldn’t do much more than drag his bloodstained hands down them feebly. His lungs were on fire and his vison, what little was left, was spotted and shaky.

“Az…Aziraphale! He called out, pleading with a merciless God to take him to his wonderful angel, his safe haven. Everything was safe with Aziraphale. You didn’t feel like you were slowly dying when he was near. 

“AzirAPHALE!” he sobbed “Please! Aziraphale!” He’d broken his promise to not think of his angel’s name. But what else was there to think of? What else could Crowley possibly do but plead for his safety net?

“I’m going to die,” he wailed “Aziraphale I’m going to die…”

~

Raphael- 1.5 hours earlier

The first thing Raphael did when they got back to Heaven was to find Michael and pull her into their office where they cornered her, their eyes glowing and face twisted in a tight scowl. The look on their friend’s face told Raphael they probably needed to try and reign in their rage. They released her arm and turned away to inhale and smooth their hair back, a long sigh passed through grit teeth. 

“Raph…Raphael? Michel questioned tentatively. She hadn’t seen her friend this angry in a very long time. The energy they admitted, it wasn’t your run of the mill frustration, no, it was almost primal. 

“Did you know?” Raphael snapped, their voice an accusation.

“Know…know what? She responded carefully. Her mind raced with possible outcomes, nothing immediately came to mind, nothing Raphael should know. What they shouldn’t know, however…

“You know.” Their voice trembled, “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t.”

Maintain your composure let them bring up the points, Michael ordered herself. “I…don't think I do, Raphael.”

They turned to face her, the same haunting expression stamped on their face again. “Do not test me right now.” their hands were shaking, their cooperation flush.  
Michel found herself taking a step back. They were not one for confrontation especially when it was with someone like Raphael. They were…well, perhaps not as blessed with God-given authority as Gabriel but, no less powerful. They were certainly more powerful than Michael. Its why no one said anything when they saw Raphael smoking on the balcony. No one wanted to get on the bad side of one of the big ones. 

Raphael’s eyes flashed in impatience ‘Well, do you need me to spell it out for you, or is your brain still in working order?” Michael knew, of course, she knew. She’d been part of the team keeping tabs on Zadkeil. She just didn’t want to anger the boss. Well, fuck the boss, Raphael could be the boss too. They and Gabriel were practically equals, divided only by management technicalities.

“Tell me now, Michael, one report to The Metatron, and you’ll be on escalator watch duty for the next century. They forced themselves not to wince at Michaels betrayed expression They hated using their authority, especially against a friend who was likely scared of a higher power. 

After several beats, Michael responded in a calm but quivering voice “So…it’s come to that then, threats?” she pursed her lips “alright then, if that’s how you want to play this’ She fixed them with a glare that made their knees weak with guilt, they didn’t want to play it that way.

“W-Wait-“ they stammered “No, I’m sorry Michael that’s not what…” they hissed and raked a hand through their hair. “I need a cigarette, you won’t say anything if I light up, right?”

Michael just shook her head

They sighed gratefully and lit one up. A deep inhale helped to relax their muscles “Lets… let's just talk about this a little…”

She watched them quizzically “If…that’s all we’re doing..” 

“It is."

“Okay then…” she leaned forward to observe the strange item in their hand. She’d never seen one so close. Michael promptly coughed when she got a mouth full of smoke

Raphael chuckled lightly “Its an acquired taste.” They blew out, away from her, their face returning to stone-cold rage in an instant, all humor forgotten. “Please, tell me about….Crowley,” the name turned their mouth to ash and their eyes flashed.

Michael sighed and rolled her shoulders back; she shook her head. “What will you do if I do?”

They shrugged much too casually for the nature of the discussion. It was obvious to Michael that they were trying desperately to maintain calm as much as possible and not scare her again. “I’ll do what I do. I need to know, Michael.”

“That’s not good enough and you know it, Raphael.” she folded her arms and stood up straighter to try and look morw wise and authoritative than she actually was. 

“Sure” they fixed her with a look, ignoring her attempt to look bolder. “but its the truth, I can’t lie to you…” 

The next phrase hung on their lips like a secret, it would be a harsh self-blow and, was most definitely manipulation. Still… 

“Especially not when I’m begging the only other angel I’ve ever cared for, for one small mercy…” they forced their gaze to soften “Please, Michael…you’re the only one who can help me.”

Michael's mouth twisted up in surprise, her eyebrows raised. She had only once before seen Raphael beg. At Gabriel’s feet as he cut down the most important thing in Raphael’s life. After that, they had adopted a nonchalant but distant mask and an air of indifference towards the past. life goes on and all that junk that Michael saw right through. She could always tell that the archangel was in great pain wherever they went, the Great War still lurking behind their sharp dismissal of heaven. For 6000 years she had tried to give them some relief, a friend, or an ally at least. 

She had never been sure why she’d felt so compelled to do so. Perhaps it was only because Michael recognized that expression, she saw it her own eyes. Felt it in her heart when she remembered her blade deep her favorite brother’s corporation…She too knew great loss, knew what it was like to never have a hope of seeing or, heaven forbid, rescuing her other half. What wouldn’t she give to have Lucifer back by her side? Now, she was caught between those two worlds. How could she deny Raphael a chance Michael herself ached for? 

She surveyed her friend. The way their green eyes penetrated her skin, their posture low, exhaustion creeping back into their expression, replacing the rage.  
She sighed “Alright…I’ll tell you.” she came and miracle a chair for herself and sawt opposite Raphael’s desk chair. 

They took their seat and stared at Michael expectantly,   
Michael didn't speak for several moments, the courage took a while to come to her

“The demon Crowley is…Zadkiel” she said solemnly “but there’s nothing you can do Raph-“

Raphael’s desk chair was spinning from how fast they’d left it, the door slammed mid-Michael's sentence. In an instant, Michael miracle in front of them and used her own power to pin them against the wall 

“There is nothing you can do.” She snapped, her expression urgent. 

They breathed heavy, their eyes glowing again “I Just want to-“ 

“Don’t lie to me” she hissed “Not after I risked my position to help you out.” Her nails dug into their corporation, “now, we’re going back into your office to talk you down for attacking an archangel.”

“And then what? The more time we waste, the more that bastard harms her.” They struggled against Michael's bruising grip but, the other archangel didn’t let go.  
“And when we’re freefalling into a pit of burning sulfur, there will be no one left to help her.” 

Raphael flinched. For a moment Michael thought they might simply vanish to Gabriel’s office and doom them both but, to her surprise, the archangel relaxed. “Fine.” They paused, eyes dark with a brewing promise of revenge. “B-But I’m not letting her suffer for much longer, no matter what it takes.”

Michael relaxed as well. She let her friend loose and they just sank to the floor in defeat and put their head in their hands, “I can’t believe she’s been here all this time…I can’t believe I didn’t know…”

A wave of empathy washed over Michael and she crouched down to put a hand on Raphael's slumped shoulder. “It not your fault, how could you have known? You’ve never even seen Crowley,” 

Raphael was just about to answer when they both heard footsteps and shot up and away from each other at lightning speed. 

Uriel ran into the area, they looked frantic. They and called out “Emergency meeting! The Anti-Christ is showing signs of activity again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So sorry that its taken me two weeks to get this out, College has been kicking my ass. In a perfect world, I'd say I want to try and get on a set schedule but, that's very unlikely right now so expect these chapters to be one to two weeks apart.
> 
> That being said, thank you to everyone who has read this far and everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos! They mean the world to me! You guys are the best.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this Chapter!


	6. Blood was Spilled in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story takes a darker turn. Raphael has a choice to make.

Raphael- 1 hour earlier 

Raphael saw red as soon as they and Michael came through the meeting room door. There was Gabriel, sitting at the head of the long, wide conference table, a cheery expression on his face. Cheery? How dare he mock Raphael like that, in front of everyone. Raphael’s stomach turned at the thought of their and Gabriel’s innocent conversions over the past five months. Deception, all of it. A report here, an order there. All this time, Gabriel had kept Zadkiel in chains right under Raphael’s nose. The bastard probably got off on it. Well, no more. 

Before the red-haired Archangel could speak their mind, Michael caught their wrist and fixed them with a look that said “remember the deal?”

Raphael growled lowly to express their dissatisfaction but, nodded reluctantly and sank into their seat. Settling on fixing Gabriel with the harsh glare that the other archangel was accustomed to. A fantasy of throwing the whole table at Gabriel’s head did it best to keep the healer at bay.

“Alright everyone,” a crisp clap drew all eyes to Gabriel “Let's get this exciting news out.”

The conference table’s surface rose to become a 3D model of Tadfield with a bright red circle splayed across the area where Raphael had just been.

“This is where the Anti-Christ lives,” Gabriel continued as Sandalphon pointed to the area with a pointer. “and this circle represents an area just around him where we have noticed strange fluctuations in power.” Sandalphon traced the circle.

A chorus of whispered and excited expressions filled the room, a couple of angels even stood up to get a closer look at the area.

Raphael’s gaze was still locked solidly onto Gabriel, slightly delighting in his exasperated expression as the cacophony grew.

“So we’ll have a war then?” and “The apocalypse?” were all expressed with joy and excitement. 

“Isn’t it exciting?” an angel whispered to Raphael “We get our war after all!”

“Huh? Oh” their expression faltered a bit, they didn’t look over to the other angel.

It wasn’t good, in fact, the idea made Raphael sick to their stomach. But, nothing could overpower the rage currently building inside them. It filled them almost to the brim now. 

Eventually, Sandalphon banged his pointer on the table a few times whilst Gabriel almost shouted “Quiet, I’m not finished!”

With eerie quickness, the angels settled down again and turned to their leader again. Raphael would have laughed if they hadn’t been so angry.

“Thank you.” The archangels snapped. “As I was saying, the Anti-Christ appears to be showing signs of power again. We are not currently sure what this might mean, or how it is affecting the surrounding area.” His eyes went around the room and found a scowling Raphael “Luckily, one of our own paid a visit to the area today. Raph, care to share?” his tone was too bright, Raphael’s fist curled. 

Michael squeezed their wrist, a warning.

Raphael took a deep breath, allowing the sensation of breathing to fill their head. They stood, first no longer clenched and met Gabriel’s gaze with their own.  
“It seemed normal when I got there…” they were almost monotone “It was snowing just like it always does during the winter in Tadfield.”

“That’s it?” a couple of angels whispered to each other.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow “That’s it? You didn’t notice anything? Anything at all that might be strange?”

“No” but, something had. The child falling into the ice, it unheard of at this time of year in England. Too bad that Gabriel would have to wrestle it out of them.”

Gabriel let out an uncharacteristic long sigh and rubbed his face. Raphael could see the polish on his nails.

Raphael shrugged but they were so wound up that it was more like a jerk. “I only did exactly what you asked, Gabe. Raphael elongated Gabe. “I went, I saw, I have nothing to report except a happy, healthy child.” 

“Lord, why are you testing me?” Gabriel barely muttered before looking up again and addressing the crowd. “Well, since Heaven's great healer is so incompetent at basic perception, I’ll just have to go down there and-"

“Like you’d notice anything.” The words flew out before they could stop them “you’ve visited earth what, fives whole times? What the hell do you know?” their blood felt on the verge of boiling. This ridicule, Gabriel was taunting them now, hanging the truth just out of view and mocking them for not being able to see it.

The room fell silent once more. Any angel would have to be incredibly dull to not know that the two siblings had been in a silent feud since the Great War. It was in the way they walked, talked, and even looked around each other. Their hope to keep it somewhat private hung on a very, very thin rope. That rope had just snapped.

Gabriel clenched his perfect teeth, he went ridged.

Michael crossed her fingers, a silent prayer that the topic of Zadkiel would not make its way into public conversation. No one breathed save for Raphael who was nearly snarling.

“Meeting dismissed.” Was Gabriel’s curt response.

Michael, after giving Raphael a warning glance, hurriedly left with all the other angels. They spilled out into the hallway and the door clicked shut with deceptive calmness. Every single angel could feel the energy of the room leaking out into the rest of Heaven. Two higher-ups angry. It was like poison. 

Inside, Gabriel sat back down on his slightly larger chair at the head of the table and crossed one leg on top of the other. “Do you have something you’d like to say to me, Raphael?”

Raphael’s entire body felt hot as they glowered at that smug face, now tight and taut with rage. Michaels words of warning seemed to fade to the edges of their memory. The overwhelming urge to tackle Gabriel made them itch, their corporation suddenly too small to hold them.

“Rapha-“

“Shut up!” Raphael snapped “Just shut up!” They turned to leave but the door clicked. Locked. The fire burned brighter.

“Unlock it.” They demanded. They couldn’t just do it themselves; this was Gabriel’s room under his control.

Gabriel shrugged with fake innocence, “I’m getting tired of you, Raph. This feud between us that you’ve conjured up out of nowhere. It's grating on me.”

“Nowhere?” they echoed; fists clenched.

“Your disrespectful and insubordinate outbursts have hit a new low with that display. I can handle undone shirt buttons, ugly bow ties, and one-word answers. I won’t tolerate blatant disrespect in front of the others.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “You don’t want to go down that road with me,” They growled. “You know what you did.”

“Six Thousand years ago, Raphael.”

“Six thousand long and agonizing years watching you parade around like you’re innocent!”

He stood up fast, “I am innocent! I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel, I do what the Almighty asks! I can’t say the same for you!”

“How dare you!” Raphael bellowed, they had to consciously stop themself from ramming Gabriel against the wall. “I have been nothing but obedient to Her! You are not Her, Gabriel. As much as you’d like to pretend, you are just the messenger. I owe you nothing and you will get nothing from me!” They gripped the framework of the table, their breath was labored. 

“I only follow the Almighty’s orders, Raphael. She knows what to-“

“She was wrong! Raphael slammed a fist on the table so hard that it shattered and shards of glass cascaded to the floor around them. 

The angels, who’d had their ears pressed to the door, gasped in unison. No one had ever dared utter those words. No one had even thought them up. Inside, the room fell silent once more. Even Raphael themself was shocked at the first blasphemy to ever be uttered in heaven since the Great war. 

Gabriel stood there, eyes ablaze and jaw clenched, nothing but contempt for the archangel across from him. Raphael's eyes settled on the blood dripping from their hand. They watched it fall onto the clean, white carpet, a stain in heaven. Unheard of.

But then, so was an archangel bleeding on holy ground.

“Something’s happened” Raphael whispered 

Gabriel’s eyes fell to the wound “You’ve crossed a line, that’s what’s happened.” He pushed past them, “You’re no longer welcome at our meetings.” He stopped and turned around to face the red Archangel “As for your precious Zadkiel, she will be punished tenfold for your blasphemy.

As if one cue, Gabriel’s watch started to beep and the man smiled sickly “She’s trying to use her powers again, the Almighty really is on my side."

Then, Gabriel was gone. Angels scattered from the scene when the large table frame came crashing through the meeting room window and into the wall opposite it.  
Inside, Raphael screamed in agony.

They felt something sick inside them. Holy blood had been spilled in Heaven once again. 

-

Michael barely managed to squeeze past the other angels all crowding around the door. By the time she managed to get in, Raphael was wrapping their tie around their damaged hand. Michael stopped in her tracks at the sight of it. 

“Somethings happened…” Raphael whispered, softer this time. There was no trace of the Raphael that had thrown a whole table through an office window. Only a broken one remained.

Michael didn’t respond, she seemed to be trying to gather the right words.

“I smashed the table…” they started again “then it…just started bleeding.”

“You mean after what you said.” Michael snapped after seconds of delay.

“Yes.” They shot back, “Can you blame me?”

“Raphael that’s…what he said.”

“He said many things, Michael. I’m not trying to start a war like Lucifer was.”

Michael sank against the wall and dropped her head into her hands, “you don’t even know what you’ve really done, what this really means…”

Raphael shook their head, “Right now I know that we have to get out of here before someone sees.” They got back on their feet and stuffed their still bleeding hand into their pocket.

“We?” Michael echoed. 

Understanding then hurt flashed over Raphael’s eyes “Oh…I just thought…”

Michael sighed then, slowly got to their feet, “You crossed a line…I cannot follow you over it without suffering whatever fate you have secured for yourself…”

Their stomached turned, tears brimmed in their eyes downcast eyes.

“I’m sorry…but, I’ve sacrificed too much to lose Her love now."

“We don’t know that I've-“

“What else could it possibly be? Look at you! you’ve never even been scratched! Not plague nor flood nor fire has ever touched you. Swords shatter against your skin, Raphael. You walked through the Great War unharmed while all around you blood flowed and soldiers fell.” She clenched her teeth, “You have never bled before.” 

“Michael-“

She held her hand up “I should never have told you.”

The room was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Two angels, both burned by Heaven’s bloodlust stood on opposing sides of an impenetrable wall. One, willing to kill for her home and one trapped by it. 

Where would they both go now? 

~

Crowley 

Crowley was near death before the poisonous vapor was finally vented out of the room. He laid in the middle of the floor, blood pooling around his heaving body. Each breath tormented his battered lungs. He periodically felt his cooperation seize up, only resulting in him coughing up more blood. He could also feel it failing. And, he thought, why did it even matter if it failed? What more could Gabriel possibly do to him that was worse than this? Do it again? Maybe, but Gabriel would do it again anyway…

Shame began to build up in him. He felt sick at what he had become. Demons didn’t cry like this, demons didn’t hide in corners from pompous, do-gooder angels. Demons were supposed to be rude, defiant, and untamable. They were supposed to fight their enemies, not let them rule them like this. Demons weren’t supposed to have…big metal bands around their wrists that stopped their magic flow…and alerted angels when they tried to use it. Demons weren't supposed to bend and break from the pain of anything. The others had been right, he was a fucking failure, in every possible way. Why did Aziraphle love someone like that?

“Dear boy” a soft voice, like a warm hug, enveloped the room. It was so lovely and nice that Crowley would have almost sworn it was Aziraphale.

The thought made him laugh, a crackle-like sound that only hurt worse. “Great, now I’m hearing things,” He thought.

“Oh my dear boy, what have they done to you?” The voice sounded closer this time.

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to believe what he thought he heard. It wasn’t possible.

“Crowley?” 

Crowley felt a warm hand gently clasp his shoulder and he flinched away involuntarily.

“Shush” the hand gently caressed his back, doing its best to avoid any boils, “shush, its alright, dear boy. It was just a bad dream.”

Crowley trembled under the touch. His mind was racing a mile a minute to try and put this together. Aziraphale, here? In this prison? How was it possible…” still, he couldn’t help but let his exhausted body lean into the touch. No matter how impossible, how implausible it was, at least the person here was touching him, giving him heat. His eyes brimmed with tears.

The person continued his comfort, finding his way to Crowley’s hair and running their nails sweetly on Crowley’s scalp. “It’s alright, you can open your eyes.”  
And, the voice was so loving, so encouraging that Crowley did.

He was greeted, not with harsh fluorescents but, a warm yellow glow. And the smell was not of Windex or unscented soap but of vanilla, old books and gingerbread. He no longer felt the cold tile of heaven but, the softness of a stuffed mattress. His body no longer heaved with pain.

As he adjusted to the dimness, a figure slowly began to appear:

“See? Just a bad dream. I told you you shouldn’t nap on an empty stomach”

“Az…Azira…phale?” Crowley barely choked out the words, the end mixed with a heavy sob “Aziraphale.”

“You were thrashing so wildly; it took me forever to calm you down.” Aziraphale pulled into a tight hug.

Tears flew down Crowley's cheeks. His arms flew around his angel as if the man would slip away completely. Could it really all have been a dream? Crowley had had nightmares before, hell, he had nightmares almost every night. Never like that though…never so…vivid, so long.

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head “You’re doing wonderful, my dear.”

Crowley began to shake with relief. This all felt so real…so solid. Maybe it was all just a dream. Maybe the war hadn’t even begun yet. 

“There there, I'll make you a nice cup of Cocoa” Aziraphale tried to pull away but, Crowley locked his arms around the angel and squeaked a "no”

Aziraphale chuckled in a classically Aziraphale way “It’ll be fine, my dear.” He wiggled out of Crowley’s grasp ‘Its daytime, no one can hurt you here.” Aziraphale wrapped, swaddled to be specific, his husband in blankets.

Crowley stared at him with wide eyes “Promise…you’ll come back right away?”

“Yes, of course, my love,” he planted a gentle kiss on Crowley’s cheek and stepped out to make cocoa. 

Not a minute later, Crowley heard the crash of a cup and a scream. 

“Angel!” he ripped the blankets open and went tumbling down the stairs to the kitchen the bookshop. However, instead of the kitchen, Crowley found him tripping right back into his bleak cell. He hit his head hard on the floor and, in his delirious state just managed to see a figure, tall and strongly built, with his hands on another figure. Then, there was a bright flash that left him blinded for a few, agonizing seconds. 

“Crowley!” came a terrified cry, it sounded exactly like Aziraphale. The sound shocked Crowley to the very core, fear racing through him like a wildfire.

Crowley’s vision cleared just in time to see the Archangel Gabriel pushing a gaged and bound Aziraphale straight into a column of hellfire. The two locked eyes right before Aziraphale disintegrated into nothing with a silent cry. the image branded itself into the demon's mind instantaneously. 

Crowley wasn’t sure If the first scream came from the sight or from the crack and fall of a holy water infused whip that Gabriel brought down on the demons back.

-

Crowley lay, gasping, on the floor again. New wounds burning with indescribable pain. What had happened? Was on repeat in his mind. What had happened to Aziraphale?

“He’s dead” Gabriel snarled “do you think we would let him live after finding him trying to free you?”

“What?” Crowley hissed through; it was barely audible. The pain seemed to numb, replaced by a great sorrow as the archangel’s words settled in Crowley’s head. Aziraphale? Dead? 

“We found him crouched over you, trying to wake you. he was…cooing at you,” Gabriel said in disgust.

“No!” Crowley put all his energy into the shout. Like it would change what Gabriel claimed, like it would change what he saw 

“Uriel claims that Hell sent him up to make sure he wouldn’t die from hellfire burns. How he overpowered my best is just baffling.”  
‘No…I-It can’t be....”

“See for yourself.” Gabriel snapped and every cell wall came to light, a video began to play. 

Crowley watched, in agony, as Aziraphale, the real Aziraphale, was ripped from Crowley by Gabriel and two other angels and dragged in front of a ring of holy fire. he slammed his head down and covered his ears so he wouldn’t have to watch the end. He felt beyond sick. His body shook with grief and fat tears splashed around him.

“I’ll let you sit on that for a while.” Gabriel slammed the door shut and the video started up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! as always, I'm sorry I was gone for almost a whole month. I ended up getting into a minor crash (I wasn't driving) and the doctor I went to ended up being positive for COVID. Being in quarantine, you'd think I'd have time to write but, it turns out that COVID running your birthday and birthday month really does suck the life out of you. that and my professors will not lighten up on the work.
> 
> All is well now though and I am back in my dorm (with a negative test and no symptoms :) and I'm ready to start this thing up again! As well as my life haha. I hope you all are doing well and staying safe.


	7. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game changes for good.

Raphael 

Raphael, for reasons they did not understand, had gone back to Tadfield and back to Anathemas house. it had just...felt like where they needed to go. They’d simply came in and sat down at her kitchen table and went to work on trying to fix their hand. Anathema was either too nice or too scared of Raphael to protest. She’d made tea and sat down opposite them with some medical supplies. With a lot of work, they’d both finally managed to sew it up well enough for it to stop bleeding. Three days later and Raphael hadn’t left yet. 

Anathema came into the guest room she’d thrown together with lunch for the angel. It was a turkey sandwich that Raphael was sure was delicious but wasn’t going to eat. They’d never quite gotten on board with human food. Sure, there was the occasional banquet a human honored them to attend, and they ate at them. It was good but…not what hit the spot. Drink and cigarettes were their earthly pleasures.

“Uh…listen” Anathema started warily “I know you have a hurt hand and stuff, but my boyfriend is coming home soon and I kind of need to know what to tell him” she set the plate down kind of loudly to try and get the angels attention.

Raphael looked over briefly from where they were smoking out the window -Anthem hated the scent in the house- “Oh…” 

“Yeah” she put her hands on her hips. 

Raphael looked back to the window, returning to their state of deep thought regarding their hand and what the blood could possibly mean for them and their future. Had Raphael even meant what they had said to Gabriel? The easiest answer was no but, was it the truth? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps that was why every attempt Raphael had made to heal themself had failed.

After a stretch of Awkward silence, Anathema cleared her throat “So?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him everything when he comes.” Raphael didn’t look over this time. 

“Uhuh, and what is “everything?” Anathema said with more than a hint of frustration in her voice.

“Huh?” And then there was the matter of…her. Gabriel had confirmed that she was trapped up there. Gabriel had confirmed a lot more than just that. It made the archangel feel ill to think about yet, it consumed them. 

“¡Por el amor de Dios!” Anathema threw her hands up “You-You can’t just come into someone’s home and take it over without an explanation!” It was times like these that she regrated burning the prophecies. Agnus would know how to deal with this. “No puedo creer que esto me vuelva a pasar.” With that she left, leaving the door open just in case. 

“Mortals” Raphael mumbled. They closed their eyes to try and concentrate once again. Not a moment later, they heard chattering coming from outside. 

‘I’m telling you, it’s the same feeling I got when we met the angel!” Raphael immediately recognized the voice as Adam’s. 

“Why would she back? She was clearly desperate to get away last time.” There was Pepper.

“Maybe she forgot something-“

“Don’t be stupid, Brian.”

“All of you just shut up!” Adam ordered though it wasn’t in a mean way as far as Raphael could tell. 

The door bell rang, shattering all Raphael’s hopes that the children were just passing by.

“Well, if she is here then I could give her the gift I told Anathema to give her if she came back. You know, for saving my life and everything.” 

“You left a gift for an angel?” Pepper scoffed at Wensleydale 

“They have feelings too.”

“You couldn’t possibly know- oh, hey Anathema.”

“Kids!” She sounded tense “what’s going on?”

“Adams got a funny feeling,” Brian informed.

“A funny feeling?” She asked.

“About Raphael,” Adam answered, “she’d here again, isn’t she?”

There was a moment of silence then the sound of people walking and the door being shut. 

Raphael sighed, better to reveal themself now then have the kids come in here and surround them again. Besides…They looked down at their unhealed hand, if this had anything to do with Anti-Christ activity then the Anti-Christ himself might know something about it. They got off the bed and made their way out to the front room, making sure to hide their injured hand behind their back. 

The children’s, save for Adam’s, jaws all dropped when they saw Raphael. 

“Oh my God, she actually is real…” Pepper said quietly 

Raphael did an awkward left-handed wave “Uh…hey” their eyes darted around.

To their surprise, Wensleydale ran up to them and gave them a tight hug, the speed at which they were seized almost knocked them off their feet, “Oh!”

“Thank you!” Wensleydale kept his arms wrapped around Raphael until the angel finally hugged back. They made sure to cover their injury. 

Once they were released and Wensleydale and returned to his friends, Adam approached. He did so cautiously as if he could sense the archangel’s transgression in Heaven. 

“I knew it was you, the air was too warm for winter.”

Raphael could have laughed at that, “I get the opposite feeling…” They looked the kid over, considering anything that they might have heard when they weren’t tuning Gabriel out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything there because they always tuned Gabriel out. 

Adam scanned back, obviously sensing something different about the archangel. 

Raphael was clever for once and spoke before Adam, “You’re actually just the person I need to see,” there, now the brat couldn’t ask anymore uncomfortable questions. 

“I am?” he frowned.

“Yeah, come with me,” they beckoned to the guest room. Best to keep this away from the mortals.

Adam followed without question, not even Anathema protested. Raphael clicked the door shut with their good hand. “Right, I need your help.”

“You need my help?” Adam asked incredulously. “What could I possibly do for an angel?”

“Well…” They revealed their sliced palm, turning their face away in shame.

Adam made a hiss noise, “Ouch, what happened?” 

Raphael’s face fell “You…don't know?”

“Why would I know anything about your…hand?”

Raphael chuckled sadly “Angels…aren’t supposed to bleed…”

“Oh…really?” they stared at it. If Raphael could sense auras, they’d have a better idea of what Adam was thinking.

“Yeah, well at least not me.” They sat down on the bed. “Adam, have you been feeling-“ 

Before they could finish, Adam reached out to touch the wound. 

A flash of bright light knocked them both over and an audible scream pierced the house. It was coming from the living room;

Anathema. 

~

Aziraphale- roughly three days earlier

He woke up screaming, the footage of his demon’s dying body playing in his mind. Aziraphale gripped the burlap met underneath him, his eyes darted around rapid, trying to regain clear vision. It was dark, horribly dark and he felt something crawling over his hand. It had been two weeks since Hell had shown him that horrible video and the nightmares still plagued him as strong as the first night.

It should be noted that only a few hours had passed since Aziraphale had seen the video but, to him and to Hell, it seemed to have been a couple of weeks already. Time and space are very relative to Angels and Demons. An extra two weeks in a couple of hours was nothing to Beelzebub and, was crucial to the plan. 

Shaking the thing off, Aziraphale tried to regain composure before he started crying again. It was no use and he broke down into tears the moment he fully got a grasp on his situation again. Before, at least, he had only speculated on what Heaven could be doing to his poor boy. Now that he knew…now that he had seen it with his own eyes…the only thought he could think was that the demon was dead. Not dicoperated but, dead for real. 

What was worst of all was that Aziraphale couldn’t understand why. Throughout his two weeks of interrupted “alone time” the angel's mind had swiftly gone from in overdrive to near combusting with rage, hurt, confusion, and…doubt. For the first time in his life, Aziraphale had doubt in Heaven- no, not in Heaven…in God. The idea made him feel sick, it made him feel unclean and unholy. It also made him angry at himself for all those times he’d shut his demon down, insisted that God had some larger scheme. That She wouldn’t let Her children suffer, that She would right things. She had not and that was really what made Aziraphale angry. He felt utterly betrayed.

He had spent millennia following the Almighty’s orders, believing in her plan. He had even withheld information from his loved one or Her behalf. This was how She repaid him. With a prison cell, psychological torture, and…it was too horrible to think of what else.

Aziraphale was beginning to feel something inside him change. his eyes, once a bright blue, were beginning to dull. They were sunken and almost lifeless. His wings and halo felt leaden instead of light like a cloud. He had read once, that doubt caused these feelings. That terrified him. Worst of all was the heaviness that settled around him, the feeling that he could sink into the ground. He hadn’t done more than sit up since yesterday, feeling too weighted to stand.  
Aziraphale knew what this was the beginning of. He didn’t dare say it out loud, as if that would change anything at all.

-

A day passed by in what seemed like minutes. Breakfast was delivered and Aziraphale couldn’t do anything but crawl to retrieve it. Starvation still motivating him through all this. If there was the slightest chance that his demon was alive then, he couldn’t fall prey to himself just yet. Not if there was still a chance of a reunion.   
Still, his pounding headache was teetering on the verge of becoming a migraine, and the thought of eating made him want to hurl. But, he had to persist, for his demon. 

There wasn’t any food in the bowl though, just a hastily folded piece of paper that had dirt smudges all over it. 

“What in the world…?” He picked it carefully, slightly afraid as the last thing he’d read from the demons had nearly destroyed him.

Before Aziraphale could open it, the wall fell away to reveal a scowling Lord Beelzebub. The Lord stood with their arms crossed. On either side was a guard. Both with wasps buzzing all around.

Aziraphale gulped, his hands began to tremble so hard that he dropped the bowl and it clinked to the floor. He didn’t like how the demons made him feel.

Beelzebub studied the angel, they sniffed, then smirked in satisfaction. The angel reeked of doubt, this was bound to push him over the edge.

“No breakfast thizz morning?” They stepped into Aziraphale’s cell and picked up the paper which had landed a foot from the empty plastic. 

“U-Uh…no, n-not quite.” He put his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. it was definitely best to try not to show weakness. 

They folded it open “Strange…” They said with fake sincerity, this had been their plan all along.

Aziraphale got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“It’s a mezzage from your bozz”

Aziraphale gulped “M-My boss?”

“About the demon Crowley, I think you'll find it intrezting." They prodded with a smirked 

Aziraphale’s heart stopped, a million different possibilities ran through his head at once. All had one thing in common; the belief that his demon was dead.

Beelzebub sneered and flicked the thing at the angel who sluggishly flinched away from it.

“Pick it up, Coward,” a guard mocked.

Aziraphale looked from it to the Lord who folded their arms impatiently. The message was clear. Could he stall? Probably not, these were demons after all.   
With a heavy heart, he bent down and picked up the paper, hands still shaking something mad. He felt the edges, trying to keep the opening off for just a couple more seconds. 

The bowl flew past him, millimeters from his head and Aziraphale shrieked, ducking down and ultimately losing his balance. He stumbled to the floor with a plop, paper clutched in his hand.

“GET ON WITH T AZIRAPHALE” Beelzebub roared.

“Y-Yes I-I’m sorry I-“ 

"AND SHUT UP!"

Through budding tears, Aziraphale hastily folded the dirty thing open out of sheer terror. It took a few seconds of blinking to clear his vision. He read the words he wished he hadn’t.

TO: HELL   
ORIGIN: HEAVEN  
MESSAGE TYPE: REPORT   
MESSAGE: We write to inform you of the death by holy water of the Demon Crawley. We trust you are satisfied with his imprisonment and punishment before death.   
-Gabriel and Michael 

Aziraphale's world seemed to minimize to that word; death. his breathing stopped, his blood ran cold and he felt…absolutely empty inside. A soulless feeling. He could barely detect the laughter of the three demons before him. Him? Dead? I couldn’t actually be…Aziraphale had only…his mind had only been taking him places. Imaginary places…this couldn’t be real…

By the time Aziraphale regained a little sense, the three were gone and he was alone in a dark cell once again.  
And this, he was truly alone. 

-

The better part of a day passed with Aziraphale lying on the ground of his cell, weeping. He thought he might feel angry but, he just felt empty in the most agonizing way. Absentmindedly, he felt the place where his ring used to be and let out another heart-wrenching sob. His partner, his friend…the only thing in the world that mattered to him…was gone.

He’d tried to think it through of course. Disprove it in any way, with little success. It was Heaven’s writing and Aziraphale had seen the holy water in the room, he’d seen it start to kill Him. There was no more hope. 

With his mind broken, Aziraphale had no control over where his thoughts wandered. With every passing hour, he became less and less empty and more and more angry at the Almighty. This was not the God, the Higher Authority that he had devoted himself to for over 6000 years. God wasn’t supposed to kill anyone, not like this. She wasn’t supposed to let her angels suffer like he was. And demons like Him weren’t supposed to die by Heaven’s hand. Heaven and those devoted to it, they were supposed to be the GOOD GUYS.

He had believed that for so long, not just that angels were good but that She was as well. That She loved and would forgive all her children in the end. Who was he if he didn’t carry that with him?

Everything felt heavy and miserable, shame hung around him like a thick fog. How pretentious, how holier than thou he’d often acted to the one he loved. It must have hurt the demon so much to strung along on Aziraphale’s impossible game of hot and cold. A tortuous meet in the park, a ring, a refusal to help, years spent toward a common goal then; Aziraphale spent their last few days together deceiving Him.

No, Aziraphale had abandoned him

Had abandoned Crowley.

He was no better than the Demon Lord or their two thugs. At least they owned what they were. Angels were just…pretending to be up there, they were really no different than the ones that fell.

That fact alone could kill Aziraphale, it might have if something else weren’t happening to him.

Because only minutes before Adam reached out to join the bridge between something pure and something otherworldly, Aziraphale felt an incredible amount of pain, loss, and the feeling of Love leaving his body.

He sat bolt upright, gasping as understanding, no, a decision washed through him.

God was not worth following any longer.

Aziraphale needed to make his own path.

If the Light was shutting him out, then he would shut himself out to the Light. 

God had killed everything he held dear and he hated Her for that.

With that thought, the angel screamed so loud that Hell shook, light poured from his body. In an instant, he was standing on a ledge overlooking a wasteland of orange bubbling lava and blue burning sulfur. His wings were spread and arms were splayed out in a position to tumble down. The wind roared and demons screeched, flying by on wings of pure tar and night. The smoke was so thick that his blue eyes burned. His heart went rampant inside his chest, matching the beating of distant drums. The hellfire around him did not scorch but beckon him into its flames.

He closed his eyes,

“Crowley”

Months of hopelessness took Azirpahle over and he let his body tumble down, the wind rushing, filling his ears with countless wailing voices. 

And then, as the Antichrist and the Symbol of Hope joined hands, Aziraphale fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I finally uploaded like I have my life together. I'm so excited to post this chapter because we're finally starting to get to the main plot-plot that will lay the foundation for the next two books in this series! By no means is this one over yet though haha :)


	8. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finally fully commits to what's right.

Michael 

Michael had been friends with Raphael ever since the Great War united them. Before that, Raphael had been an outcast. Not in the traditional shunned way but, in the way they had chosen themself. They had been tasked with the completion of the stars before God’s greatest creation could be placed on earth. Raphael bore the duty well, devoting all their attention to strengthening God’s favor. With them had gone the lesser archangel angel of freedom, benevolence, and mercy, Zadkiel. The two spent what must have been years in solitude among the stars. A visit to Heaven from either one of them was certainly a rarity. Coming together was unheard of. Michael hadn’t known why until after…

The two, Raphael once told her, shared something more than the brother and sisterhood other angels shared. Raphael described it very strangely, in a way Michael had never been able to wrap her head around completely. For, who had ever heard of two angels being in love like mortals?   
At the time, the notion had angered her. Angels pretending to be mortals, it was unholy…that was until she became close with her friend. Michael, even barely understanding her own emotions, did know that what she felt for Raphael was different than how they had felt about Zadkiel but, the emotion was unholy nonetheless. Perhaps that was why she refused to follow them. 

-

It had been two days since Michael had seen Raphael in Heaven and, rumors were already everywhere. That they had fallen, had been banned, had even turned on Heaven. More than one angel had asked Michael that last one. She simply kept her mouth shut and tried to ignore the anger blooming deep in her soul. Not just towards these nosy angels but, Raphael themself doing what they had done. She couldn’t understand it. 

“Why did you have to make a scene?” she muttered 

“Pardon? Uriel cocked their head and peered at Michael quizzically. 

Right, Michael was supposed to be listening to Uriel's Anti-Christ notes that were to be presented at the meeting later today. 

“O-Oh nothing…” she trailed off, watching the light bounce off the silver lining of the walls 

“Michael” Uriel stopped their walk, “are you feeling alright? This is the second time you’ve forgotten yourself.”

Michael fixed them with a look “I’m fine, just continue.”

“Mm” Uriel scanned their fellow angel “Good, we wouldn’t want you ending up like the other one, would we?”

Michael's stomach did a flip. She did her best to hide her scowl with a smile “Don’t be ridiculous, I am anything but a sympathizer.”

“Glad to hear it.” They continued on; Michael quickly tuned them out again. 

By the time they both got Uriel’s office, Michael had given three complete bullshit responses that were nearly as convincing as something Raphael would have come up with. They were certainly enough to satisfy Uriel who thanked Michael before heading into their office to make revisions. 

Michael felt herself relax at the relief of being alone again. It was short-lived as someone very unpleasant turning the corner. Gabriel.

“Michael!” Gabriel walked towards her “I hope you’re not busy.”

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie; “I’m not,” darn it. 

“Great news, listen” he started walking past her, forcing her to follow “I need to go down to earth, I need you to keep a good eye on our prisoner” He handed her a file “since you were such an important part of bringing him in.”

Michael could have thrown up, she didn’t want that reminder. “Oh…I don’t know, I have a lot going on right now-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re the perfect angel for the job. Check that out before you see him.” He slapped her back before walking off, leaving Michael to stare at the file in her head like it had a head.

“Wonderful, just wonderful.” Suddenly feeling heavy, she allowed herself to slump against the wall and close her eyes. “But fitting…it is my fault.”

It was really Michael's fault. When Aziraphale had come up to deliver that downright neurotic speech about the Anti-Christ, Michael, picking up on the real meaning right away, had been furious at him, and at the demon formally known as Zadkiel. Some horribly stupid part of Michael had thought that the war would bring only happiness to Heaven and, to the world. They had won before; she was almost certain that they would have won again. Evil would be gone, and the new world would be wiped of its sins for good. 

But, when Michael dug deep down inside, she knew that none of it was really about that. No, it was about the possibility of meeting Lucifer again. Michael thought that if Heaven could just manage to win the war then Lucifer would be forced to admit defeat. And if Michael could just get to him first…

It was a pipe dream; absolutely absurd. She knew that now, somehow. 

And so, she had to live with what she’d done, what she’d reported to both head offices. When it came right down to it, she had to live with what she’d done to Raphael. Now, it was hitting her directly in the face. 

The folder felt like lead in her had. Worse was having to go see the damage she’d done. 

-

She walked very slowly to the holding cells, stopping to converse briefly with any angel she crossed paths with. But even conversations about the looming threat of another apocalypse weren’t enough to keep her mind from wandering to what she’d see when she arrived on the scene. 

After about thirty minutes of dawdling Michael finally found herself at the entrance to Zadkiel’s cell, room #7. ‘she looked down to the dreaded file and took a deep breath before opening it 

FILE TYPE: RECORDS, ORIGINAL   
DATE: AUGUST 8TH, TWO-THOUSAND AND NINETEEN TO PRESENT   
SUBJECT OF INTEREST: CRAWLEY, DEMON- HELD FOR TREASON 

Was what it read. Michael scanned it, barely absorbing any of the actual punishments. It gave her a vague if unwelcome idea of what she was going to see.   
Gabriel had also included an access card in the file. a little white scanner pad waited for Michael to use it. 

“Why me?” Michael muttered before scanning the card.

The doors didn’t open, not really. Instead, the wall became transparent but, still provided a barrier between the angel and the demon. 

Or, what looked like a demon. The figure in front of Michael was huddled up, bloody and bone-thin, thinner than Zadkiel had ever been. She looked…well Michael fell back against the opposite wall when she saw her. All the air in her lungs felt like it left them completely. That wasn’t Zadkiel, it couldn’t be. It was like all of Raphael’s worst fears had come true. 

Michael felt a huge wave of grief wash over her, a disgusting noise left her lips. Something between a gasp and a sob. The utter horror she felt shook her to her corporation's bones. 

That just couldn’t be a Zadkiel, couldn’t be Crowley. Yet, when the figure lifted its head to see the angel, Michael knew that those vibrant yellow eyes couldn’t belong to anyone else. 

~

Crowley 

When Crowley had heard footsteps, he’d feared at first that it was Gabriel back to release the holy water again. He’d curled up in sheer terror, utterly ashamed of his actions. The pain in his body was now nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Even though the video repeat had stopped, for now, it had burned its way into the demon’s mind, all he could see and hear was Aziraphale There was nothing left to live for. 

Still, he couldn’t help but be a little confused when he saw Michael, hand over her mouth, eyes welled with tears and flat up against a wall, staring at him with utter horror. What was Michael doing here? And why did she look so…sympathetic? The thought barely had time to finish before another Aziraphale scream took it over and Crowley was back with his head to the floor, new tears streaming down his face. 

~

Michael 

Michael scanned the door back to normal almost immediately but, she could still see the demon as clearly as if she were visible again. It took her what felt like hours to come back to her senses and stop her useless grief. Grief wasn’t going to fix this.

Fix this? What the heck did that even mean?

That was the dilemma the archangel was faced with. She had to fix this, had to help the poor creature. What Michael had scanned in the report didn’t do what was actually happening to the demon any justice. It was wrong, it- it was…it was something. Even Michael didn’t think Gabriel would stoop so low as to shower a demon with holy water. That was an unthinkable punishment, a line neither side would cross. Or so she thought…So she had to help her, right? Raphael would never forgive Michael if they found this out and if…they found out that Michael didn’t do anything. 

But what was she supposed to do? Breaking Zadkiel out of here would only result in her own imprisonment, and most likely, Raphael’s.  
“I’m pathetic,” she said harshly. “Raphael denounces God, and I can’t even think about breaking a rule."

That has always been Michael’s biggest flaw. All the angels saw her wiliness to cooperate as a blessing, it was why she’d been promoted from a regular born angel to an archangel after the Great War. Raphael had always seen it as something else. They were so unlike any angel Michael knew, only an angel like that could see following exact orders as a bad thing. Michael was starting to see it that way too. Look where it’d gotten her. She’d lost Lucifer because of it and betrayed her only friend in desperation to get him back. 

She slumped down the side on the wall with her head in her hands “I should never have talked to them in the first place, we should have stayed strangers…”  
But that didn’t change the horror Michael felt at seeing another creature like this. And that emotion was what had her afraid. 

-

She was there for quite a few hours before Gabriel came. She scrambled to her feet and re-scanned the door as soon as she heard footsteps, her heart sank when she saw it was Gabriel.

The male presenting angel came and stood next to her, a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“Look at that, Michael, that’s the kind of punishment that gets the job done.”

She forced herself to remain calm “Yes it's…quite effective, though I’ve never seen anything like it before…”

Gabriel tutted “It’s new, something we came up with to use when we won the apocalypse, to keep them compliant.”

Michael had to steady herself with a hand on the wall “On all of them?”

“The ones that didn’t die by traditional methods.” He looked over at her “Is there a problem, Michael?”

She gulped and shook her head, her legs felt like they would give out “No…of course not, I’m just surprised- er- impressed.” Gosh dangit   
He looked suspicious but accepted it with another wide smile, “It certainly is different than what we’ve used in the past.”

Michael nodded, hoping he’d just go away. He didn’t. 

Gabriel pushed himself off the wall and went to scan the door open completely “Stay for this, I want you to see.”

“See?” she echoed.

“That whatever Raphael has told you, or is planning, isn’t going to work.” He looked back at the shell-shocked archangel “Yeah, I know about your little friendship. You’re a good angel, Michael, don’t let sin corrupt you.”

Oh my god, this was bad. 

He stepped into the cage and a wave of panic washed over Michael. Gabriel knew her secret, that was very bad. But so was whatever he was going to do to the poor lump of a demon.   
She cringed when the angel kicked the demon, hard, in the side. A long, pathetic groan escaped Zadkiel’s lips. 

Gabriel yanked her up by her hair and forced her to face Michael, he shook her head violently and hissed “see that angel right there, see Michael? That’s who you have to thank for your precious Aziraphale dying. She’s the reason you’re here.”

Zadkeil barely gave a reaction, but Michael was doing everything possible to not break down. This wasn’t a punishment for the demon, it was for her.   
“See, she’s a good angel,” Gabriel continued. “A little misguided at times but, a good angel. Unlike you were.” He shoved the demon down to the floor and started to press his knee into her head. “But you see, she’d recently been following a little friend of your who you might remember.” He bent down low and hissed “Remember Raphael?”

All at once, the demon thrashed under Gabriel’s grip, only resulting in the archangel showing her down harder. “Raphael was a good angel too before you got your serpent hooks in them. So now, you’re going to undo some of the damage you caused.”

He motioned Michael to come forward. Alarm bells rang in her mind but, when Gabriel began to lift a hand to Zadkiel, she rushed in to stop it. The door banged closed behind her and Michael felt a surge in the room. The sides glowed purple. That meant the room as miracle proof for anyone but Gabriel.   
She gulped, that was worse 

Gabriel smiled ingenuinely and shit the demon anyways before standing up. He miracled in a whip in, it was barbed and glowed with the stain of pure holy water on its rope. 

Michael dreaded where she knew this was going. 

Gabriel looked at Michael impatiently, “Take it.”

“Gabriel-“

“Take it” he snapped, “I can’t fix Raphael, and I can’t fix Aziraphale, but you can be fixed, you can learn. You don’t need to fall.”  
Her heart was racing a mile a minute “Gabriel this is our sister…and I am your sister you know that…you know what I’ve done to prove my loyal…please don’t let it come to this.” Her pleas sounded pathetic. 

“This isn’t our sister!” Gabriel almost yelled “This is a demon that ruined our victory and corrupted two of our best angels!” he kicked Zadkeil again “This is Crawley, not Zadkiel, you need to understand that.”

Michael tried to think of a way out of this, but she couldn’t. the room was locked and sealed; Gabriel might do something worse if she didn’t comply.  
She always complied…

“Michael,” Gabriel said, “If you do this then we can forget about Raphael and you can stay in heaven, I want that for you.”

He…wants that for me? She thought. He wants that for him. 

Still, with no other choice, with shaking hands, she took the rope. It was as heavy as lead to her. Could she even do this? She had to…“How…many?”

“One hundred” he smirked 

“Gabriel he’s near-“

“One hundred, I'll be watching.” 

Michael looked at Zadkiel and Zadkeil looked at her. 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered before letting the whip fall. 

“One, Two, Three." She hated herself. "Four, Five, Six." Raphael would never forgive her. "Seven, Eight, Nine." This wasn't what Heaven was for.

-

By the time the One-hundredth lash fell, Michael felt as if she was no longer in control of her corporation like that last fifty or so had been on autopilot. One thought rang through her head and coursed through her veins. She needed to pretend like Aziraphale. She needed to make Gabriel believe she understand how wonderful being a member of Heaven was. If she did that, she may be able to gain enough of his trust to help Raphael break Zadkiel out. She could no longer be Compliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! I'm back. I originally wanted this to be longer ad\nd cover more of all the cliffhanger's last chapter. But, exams are coming up so I'm not sure when I'll get another chapter out and I wanted to publish something. Also, I promise this is the last chapter POV I'll add for this book. And that the next chapter will be much longer and feature multiple POVs. 
> 
> Also! The first book in the series going to be ending soon. it'll probably be another 4 or five chapters and then I'll conclude it. that being said, this is either going to be a two or three book series so I'm super excited about that. As always, thanks for the kudos, comments, and reads!


	9. Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author comes back and the End Times begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for being gone for so long. It's been a crazy time but I think everything is finally settling down.
> 
> I can't believe we're so close to 900 reads and by extension, 1000! That means so much to me and I want to thank every single one of you for sticking with this story, and for all your comments and kudos. I'm super excited to continue this, I hope you like this chapter!

Agues Nutter wrote prophecies, she wasn’t daft in the slightest bit. She’d known very well that Anathema and Newt would burn the book without a glance. She’d also known that she wasn’t the last prophetic witch in her line.

~

Raphael 

The Antichrist and Raphael came into the room just in time to see Anathema rise to her feet almost inhumanly. A deep, low growl rose from the back of her throat making all but the angel step back in fear. The growl soon turned into a chant that seemed to darken the room. The wind whistled outside as Anathema spoke icy words of warning into the world:

“At which hour human incarnate joins with hope, the w'rld shalt turneth as the lasteth of heaven falls. Beest careful of the mixing of lighteth and dark lest thee findeth yourselves in between”

“What is it!” screamed Pepper who had begun to yank on Anathema’s blue sleeve. The witch did not budge. She didn’t even seem awake.  
“At which hour human incarnate joins with hope, the w'rld shalt turneth as the lasteth of Heaven falls. Beest careful of the mixing of lighteth and dark lest thee findeth yourselves in between”

“Do something!” Shouted Wensleydale who grabbed Raphael’s arm similarly. 

“At which hour human incarnate joins with hope, the w'rld shalt turneth as the lasteth of heaven falls. Beest careful of the mixing of lighteth and dark lest thee findeth yourselves in between” her chanting grew louder, the wind howled over the snowey hills.

The archangel was a loss for words. Human incarnate? Hope? And what was the last of Heaven? Surely not them, they weren’t fallen…  
“At which hour human incarnate joins with hope, the w'rld shalt turneth as the lasteth of heaven falls. Beest careful of the mixing of lighteth and dark lest thee findeth yourselves in between” the doors clattered; rain began to fall on the cottage in thick, heavy drops despite the cold. 

Adam found himself standing in the middle of it all again. He didn’t like how much this reminded him of five months ago.

“At which hour human incarnate joins with hope, the w'rld shalt turneth as the lasteth of heaven falls. Beest careful of the mixing of lighteth-“ 

“STOP!” the boy roared, eyes going red and mouth hanging open like a deadly serpent. From him came a wave of energy that ripped through the air of the whole world, stopping everything in its tracks like a dream.

Anathema stood, silent, frozen along with Adam's friends. Only he and Raphael remained animated. 

Raphael stared at the boy, the Anti-Christ. Their words logged in the back of their throat, a thick lump that was impossible to swallow. The world had stopped, even adam labored breaths did not break the silence. 

Adam looked up at them with the wide eyes of a panicked child, a child that had no say in the fate of the universe “What did I do?”

“Stopped time,” they said curtly after taking a few moments to digest the information they’d just spoke out into this dammed world. Raphael went to peer out the window at the birds in midflight, rain suspended in the air like dust. A blue car had been driving in, it stood solidly. “You’ve stopped time…”

“Really? I saw that done once. It was a man, like you, with red hair-“

Raphael’s hand came down on the windowsill. and a deafening silence hung over the room. 

Adam swallowed and took a few steps back. Even as inexperienced as he was, he could still tell that seething rage and suffocating and grief that radiated off of the archangel.  
He opted for a nervous “W-What do I do?” 

The archangel shifted, titling long, red hair down on their back, curls tussling when they shook their head “I don’t know…”

“But you’re an angel-“

“Angels don’t know everything…” they trailed off, the beginnings of fear budding deep in the chest. Raphael wasn’t scared of the gap in time, or the Anti-Christ’s powers. No, They were scared, petrified even, of what Anathema had been saying before Adam covered the universe in silence. 

They stumbled, gripping the windowsill to steady themself. There was no mistaking what the human women had been chanting it was a prophecy. And Raphael was beginning to put the pieces together, hating what they found. 

Then, suddenly, as quickly as it came, it went. The rain fell and the car pulled into the driveway. The bird took flight and Anathema fell to the floor with a thud, dragging Pepper down with her.

Pepper screamed loud enough for the person in the car to hear. He came running in before Raphael had the chance to hid. When he saw them there, all of them, he froze. When he noticed Anathema, he ran to her side

“Anathema!” he looked up at Raphael, glasses almost flinging off his roundish face from the force “Who the bloody hell are you!”

“I-“

“Her names Raphael, she’s an angel,” Adam said as nonchalantly as ever as if they hadn’t just been living outside of this realm. 

That seemed to stump him. Raphael waved slightly, unsure of what else to do.

The man looked down at Anathema, then back at Raphael, then at Adam “W-What’s going on?” 

~

Aziraphale 

It was so dark that it seemed as if light didn’t exist anymore. And, it was so cold that heat was a distant memory. Aziraphale, the former angel of the Eastern Gate, stood in pitch darkness. The distant sound of waves lazily lapping at the shore could be heard and, he felt sharp sand beneath him. He didn’t remember anything but, he would. He would soon remember the smell of sulfur and the feel of acid and fire on his skin. He would remember the flames licking his wings away to battered shells of their former selves. And he would remember the change.

Anger, the fuel of his kind, would soon come to him. Anger for his lost husband, for his lost wings and, for his lost life. 

But for now, he stumbled blindly along the beach, razor blade sand slicing at his feet. He shivered; it was too cold to feel pain. But he would feel pain.  
Before long, he collapsed onto something softer. It felt like a rock, but he could be sure.

“Is anyone here?” his small, meek voice called into the ink. No one was there. The trek to Hell after falling was a lonely one. “Where am I?” no one answered the call.  
After a couple more try’s, the demon curled up on the rock, trying to ignore the growing pain in his body and the chill that settled itself in his bones. 

(If you ever tried to ask a demon what their fall was like, they would take your head off. But, only after having peeled the skin from your bones and plucked the nerves from your flesh. No demon enjoyed discussing that dark part of their lives unless it was with the closest of friends and in the vaguest way possible. Falling from grace was a fun term for “crashing through the borders of Heaven, Hell, and Earth. A pit of burning sulfur became a wasteland of razor-sharp sand, perilous volcanic rivers, and acid beaches which one had to clamber through to reach the offices of hell where a Demon might reside after being fully initiated into the dark ranks.  
Even the idea that demons had wings was a half-truth. Demons do have wings but, they aren’t feathered like angels. They’re leathery or full of sickly scales. Their bones are either brittle like glass or redwood like in structure. Some are large enough to fly into the sun, some are shriveled, lifeless. 

Almost all demon wings are like that, but that is a discussion for another day 

Yes, falling does more than you’d think)

When he fell, he’d fallen straight into the sea and would have died there, fully, if another demon hadn’t swooped down from the red sky and hulled him onto the beach. The demon, we’ll call demon A for now, flew off before Aziraphale would wake. She would return, we are not done with her yet. 

As it was, Aziraphale had still been burned badly by the sea. It would take many months for him to recover and, then it would take entirety for the scars to heal.  
He was also naked; the remnants of his clothes had been dissolved away when he touched the sea. 

Them, of course, there were his wings. No longer white, they protruded from his back in an awkward way that told of several breaks. The tops were bleeding where the skin had been stretched, torn, and pierced through with points to form wing horns. They were double the size they had been and they dragged him down like leaden weights. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on now, especially since the grief was crawling into him again. This time though, it was because of the loss of a whole life. 

Above him, demons screamed, and volcanoes erupted, the low rumbling of a storm could be heard in the distance. The battered, broken man let exhaustion overtake him and he passed out, a short escape before hell in the morning.

-

He must have been there for hours because when he woke the night had faded to reveal the molten hellscape, dimly lit still and almost entirely made of reds, organs, and blues. And, while the night had been below zero, the day was scorching. Aziraphale would learn and grow to be able to take the heat, but that would be years.  
His throat was dry, his body was battered, and his skin was covered in dried blood. His skin felt cracked, his bones were splintered. And, his head was reeling from grief. Only sheer force of will prevented Aziraphale from melting into a puddle of tears on the spot. 

Despite his pain, he instinctively knew he had to keep moving.  
Being torn away from God’s Love felt not unlike a child feels after seeing its mother bombed in front of it if you magnified that pain tenfold. For some, like a particular red-haired fallen one, the need for that Love would never go away. Only a few lucky ones would forget entirely. 

What Aziraphale was currently feeling was that loss of Love and presence in his eternal life, a traumatizing wound, a haunting emptiness.  
Through tears, he began his trek down the beach, wings dragging through the harsh sand, knees almost giving out from the agony of it all. 

~

Raphael 

Raphael sat on the Pulsifer’s stuffed paisley armchair with a smoldering cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. Opposite them, on a suede couch, Newton Pulsifer sat with the same drink. His other hand opting for gripping the soft armrest as Raphael brought him up to date on things beyond any human’s comprehension.

Anathema had not come to yet and the angel and human pair had helped to bring her to her bed to rest. Newton demanded answers and, unfortunately, Raphael was the only one left to give them. Though the man’s face was tight with worry, what surprised the angel was that Newton was not put off by the idea of his girlfriend spouting prophecy. Raphael had gotten the drink when Newton explained Agnus Nutter’s book. Now, an empty bottle of whiskey sat between the two. 

“Will…she be alright?” he asked, hand shaking visibly, almost spilling golden liquid onto the hard wood floor.

Raphael nodded somberly “there’s no damage, she’s just out.

“And you know this how? He challenged, making Raphael roll their eyes at the prospect of explaining themselves again.  
“Because I’m-“

“Heaven’s healer…right” Newton interrupted, and Raphael scowled at the description. They weren’t much of Heaven’s anything right now. 

“That’s right.” They inhaled and blew out, smoke hiding their face for a second.

Newton squirmed “This is a lot, you know, first the end of the world and now this…”

“Yep” the ethereal one answered, tossing back the last of their drink to suppresses the memories that crept in the back of their skull.

Newtons throat went dry and he sputtered out “W-What do you think it means? The-The prophecy I mean, what do you-“

“I don’t know much, just context” they explained how Anathema fell ill when Adam and they joined hands. “I think that parts talking about us…but, I don’t know who the last of heaven is, or about joining light and dark.”

“Does it have anything to do with your friends?” Adam, who poked his head in from behind the door where he and the other children had been hiding, asked.

“My friends? Raphael didn’t bother to chastise him.

“The ones we saw at the end of the world” Pepper answered, poking her head out too “The angels”

“Angel and Demon” Brian corrected, and Pepper shushed him.

Raphael felt ill but suppressed a grimace, “Possibly…” could it have anything to do with Zadkiel and her mystery angel? They had been at the end of the world after all…was fate going to force them to think about it?

Wensleydale came running into the room, “She’s awake!”

-

They all were there in an instant, children around her bed with Newton crouching, holding her hand as she lazily looked around the room getting oriented, “My head…”

In the doorframe, Raphael joined their hands, and a slight breeze rustled the curtains and Anathema’s headache faded. 

She sighed in relief and managed to sit up in bed to look at Raphael through hazy eyes, “Was it…real?”

Tentatively, they nodded and asked, “do you remember?" They came forward to the foot of her bed and gripped the railing for support.

Anathema nodded back “I do…and…I know what it means…you, Aziraphale, Crowley and…” She looked at Adam “The End Times…They’re coming”

-

Raphael ran from the house as fast as they could, trying to get as far away as possible before the tears fell, and agony took over. They only made it to the end of the driveway before tripping and falling into freshly fallen snow and shattering like ice. They wailed, pounding their fists against the covered asphalt before throwing themself down in anger, horror, and grief. How did this happen? How could this, their worst fear come true so easily? And make so much sense. Heaven and Hell wanted their war. They shook terribly at the prospect of so much bloodshed, and so much worthless sacrifice to prevent it. 

So much pain for ones they loved so much, only for God to undo all of it again. It was sickening. The wound on the angels had started to ache, thought Adam had healed it with his touch.

The End Times

oh my God

“Raphael!” the call was muffled 

“Quick, get her before she runs away again!” 

They felt arms lift them, hot breath against their hair. Their body sagged, vision blurring at the edges as they drifted into unconsciousness. The last thing they remembered was wishing they hadn’t abandoned Michael.

-

They awoke to the sounds of people talking in the other room. Distressed voices filled the house with their worries and made Raphael’s heart start to race. They rolled over on the soft couch, facing away from a light source and squeezing their eyes shut to try and block out the memories from only a few moments ago. They groaned at the discomfort. Still, even in their half-asleep state, they could feel something different in the air. 

The groan must have made a noise because several pairs of footsteps came closer. Children’s voices whispered worry. Someone’s soft hand placed itself on Raphael’s forehead, the energy coming off of it was familiar, warm…

“They’re alright…” 

Raphael’s eyes shot open, was that Michael? But it couldn’t be, the archangel had made it pretty clear that she didn’t want any part in anything except for Heavens orders, Gabriel’s orders. 

The hand withdrew but Raphael followed it to come face to face with their friend.

They and Michael stared at one another; the latter’s eyes full of regret. A full minute of silence passed before Raphael croaked out “So much for being on my own.” It was heavy, devoid of the good-natured tone it was supposed to have. 

Instantly, Michael's face filled with relief and even stronger guilt. She kneeled before the couch.

“Raphael, I’m so sorry…” sorry didn’t begin to explain what Michael felt. She could almost taste the layer of grief around her friend, the fear prickled her skin and the agony sounded in her mind. Raphael had been through so much. In general but, also in these past couple of weeks and it was taking its toll on their aura. 

“I know…” They trailed off, silence dividing the two yet again. So many words yet to be spoken. Words they were clearly uncomfortable saying in front of an audience. 

Michael glanced around the room warily, eyeing the mortals around them “Leave us, this isn’t something for you to see.”

The humans shuffled out of the room, Anathema silencing a protest from Adam.

Once they were all gone, Michael asked “can you sit?”

They nodded. The other angel helped them into a sitting position and then sat down next to them. The pair clasped their hands together, Raphael’s heavy breathing slowed. They didn’t realize how much they needed another angel, to get through this until now.

“You came…”

“I felt a shift here, told Gabriel I’d check it out.” A poor choice of words.

Immediately, the warmth was gone, and Raphael withdrew their hand in contempt “Of course, you did” they attempted to stand, to get away from this angel who couldn’t function without heaven. But, their legs gave out and they fell against the couch with a groan. A pain between their eyes blossomed up.

“No,” Michael said sharply, desperate to prove herself “not like that-“

“Then what is it like, Michael? You said you wanted nothing to do with this, what else could it be?” anger was beginning to override fear and joy. They tried to stand again but failed and this time fell against Michael who caught them and held them strong.

“Her, Raphael, I saw her…she changed things…” it was little more than a pained whisper. 

Understanding, hope, and sadness hit Raphael like a brick, and they flopped against the other side of the couch, pressing their face into the armrest to hide. When Michael tried to touch them, their wings shot out, knocking the other angel to the floor with a thump loud enough that everyone came rushing in again, audible gasps filled the room at the sight of gigantic grey wings, feathers ruffled, filling the space then slowly, drawing around the angel they belonged to. 

“Raphael…” Michael stood up slowly, hands in front of her face incase Raphael decided to move with their wings out.

“The end times” Raphael croaked out again, though that was only the tip of it all. 

“I know…Raphael…I…” Michael swallowed “I know and I’m…I’m here to help.”


	10. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to these four main characters meeting each other (I promise) but, first Raphael has to come back to heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence and heavy religious themes involving punishment.

Raphael 

After Raphael had calmed down, the group had gathered on the living room floor to discuss the prophecy and how its characters fit in.

“I’m what?” Raphael said to Anathema, their expression guarded and tense. Michael took their hand and squeezed gently 

“Hope” Anathema answered from across the group’s circle. She gestured to the archangel’s hand which Adam had healed with his touch, and they tucked it behind their back defensively. “There’s no…literal way to translate what I said, only the feelings I get from looking at you. You are…Hope for Heaven.”

Raphael swallowed, a sick feeling in their stomach and a dryness forming in the back of their throat. They didn’t answer her, opting to look down and pretend that they weren’t visible. What did that even mean? They were just one angel, one blasphemous angel who almost hated Heaven. They weren’t anyone special even, just a healer. 

Anathema didn’t press the issue. Choosing instead to move onto the next part of the prophecy. “What feels right is…The angel that Crowley was with…” She grit her teeth and raised her hand to her head, wincing. 

Newt took her hand away and kissed her forehead “It's okay, you can take a break.”

But Michael knew what Anathema was going to say because she knew who had fallen recently. It pained her to think about how she had directly caused Heaven to lose a brother. If only she’d kept her mouth shut.

Anathema shook her head “It’s okay, I…have my part to play.” If the group could hear her resentment towards that, they said nothing. She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter “The last of Heaven feels like the angel at the end of the world, Aziraphale…”

The piqued Raphael’s interest and their head shot up. “Aziraphale is fallen?” They felt a deep pang in their heart and looked to Michael accusingly.  
Michael only nodded solemnly “Very recently, I felt it in Heaven, and Gabriel…” She didn’t finish.

“We have to rescue him.” Was the healer's reply. Raphael felt heavy thinking of the pain their brother must be in right now. With the job and title of healer came the connection to every brother, sister, and sibling. An almost empathic link that allowed the archangel to feel their pain. A curse disguised as a tool given during the Great War that allowed them to see which angels needed help. If they had been in Heaven at the time of the fall, they would have felt the echoing of burning on their skin, they would have collapsed, unable to rise until the process ended. They would have sobbed like they had for every angel fallen during the Great War. Perhaps the ache in their temples was the faded version of the process. 

They realized they were gripping Michael's hand too tight when the angel pulled away with a hiss.

“Sorry” they murmured but it was overshadowed by Michael saying:

“Could we do that?”

“We have too” Raphael breathed out, eyelids welling with tears involuntarily. They sunk to the floor in remorse and grief ‘We have to…”  
Arms snaked around them, pulling them up and against someone who wrapped wings around both their bodies “Both of them,” Michael said.

~

Michael 

“Both of them,” the words flew from Michael's mouth before she could stop them. But she didn’t want to stop them, she wanted to relive Raphael’s agony and, the pair of earth-bound demons in turn. Besides, the prophecy seemed to involve the two, and, stopping the apocalypse was something they had done before. Of course, these were all great reasons but, the real reason was the terrifying amount of guilt the angel carried. In their arms, Raphael shifted, tears still grazing their cheeks.  
“How?” Adam asked, a hit of excitement in his voice. He was the only one not staring at Raphael liked they’d grown two heads. 

“I-“ Michael started but the angel in their arms cut them off

“M-Michael and me…we’ll have to go up…” The tears slowed down and they cleared their throat, pulling away from Michael. “I’ll have to get forgiveness” They continued “and hope that Gabriel will grant it.”

“Raphael-“

“No, you can’t do it alone, and he can’t go to hell easily without a demon’s inside information…and…” They swallowed “I have to help you, I just have to…”  
“Okay” was Michaels tender reply.

~

Raphael

The next morning Raphael and Michael were ready to go with a plan and the courage of having each other. Raphael had agreed to let Michael be the one to physically handle Zadkiel agreeing that the sight of their old lover in pain would severely cripple the likelihood of success. They’d have to wait until Gabriel let Michel back in with Zadkiel. And…Raphael would have to distract the Archangel long enough for Michael to free him. But this would mean getting Gabriel to trust both of them again. Michael was already halfway there but, Raphael was going to have to put all pride aside and grovel enough to be allowed in the same room with their brother again. It made them sick to their stomach to think of that, But They’d do anything for Zadkiel’s safety. Anything. 

They said their goodbyes rather quickly and then went on their way to the entrance to heaven. Michael had Raphael’s hand the whole time, she could almost hear the archangel’s heartbeat.

“It's going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be something.” At least this gave Raphael an excuse to not think about whatever the hell being “The Hope of Heaven” meant. Jesus Christ.

They walked in silence the rest of the way

“This is me, “Michael said, letting go of Raphael “I’ll be back to let you in once I’ve convinced him you want to apologize.” The last part was tense, neither angel wanted Raphael to do any such thing to the tyrannous messenger. 

Raphael sat down on the bench beside the building and nodded “Goodspeed,” They said humorously, earning a chuckle from Michael who smiled dryly then vanished into the building. 

~

Michael

To say Michael was nervous would be an understatement. She felt as if she would faint at the thought of the task. She was no prince of lies, and no Hope of Heaven. She was just Michael the made archangel, the traitor to her friends. But Lucifer had taught her to lie, and Raphael had taught her to rebel. She must do both now. The fate of the universe rested on it.

The escalator brought her to the top and she stepped of anxiously, looking around at angels who paid her no heed. They couldn’t know she was turned.

The walk to Gabriel’s office felt longer than usual, perhaps because she stopped often to refresh her lines under her breath. Taking of Raphael’s regret and desire to be allowed home, her own part in it, it was all so complicated.

Finally, Michael was there. After a moment of hesitation, she knocked. 

“Come in”

Her stomach did a backflip, she shook her head and opened the door.

Gabriel smiled genuinely and stood up, “Michael, I was afraid you weren’t coming back.” He joked; Michael allowed herself to relax when she detected no animosity under those cherry lines. Gabriel had truly been impressed with the whipping. If only she could be so genuinely trusting of him in return like she used to be. 

Calling on her inner Lucifer, she smiled back, “I just got a little caught up there.” She paused “But I come with good news, the Anti-Christ is showing signs of power.” It felt good to not lie, the feeling produced a real smile. 

Gabriel’s own smile turned into a wide grin, “That is wonderful news!”

‘Yes sir, I think that with a little prodding, we could stir him up again, enough to begin the end of the world the right way.”  
“Michael, you truly have no idea how happy this makes me.” 

“Me too, Gabriel,” She said with as much earnestness as she could muster “The forces of Heaven have another chance to beat those who betrayed us.” The next part made her ill to say, “with no Aziraphale or Crowley in the way.”

“Indeed” he straightened his tie “go tell the others to assemble in the meeting room, A celebration is in order.”

This was it, the moment of deception.

“Wait, Gabriel?”

“Yes?” It was impatient.

“There’s…one more thing that I…beg you to trust me on”

His smile faltered “Yes?”

“It’s about Raphael-“

His expression soured.

“Gabriel please.” Michael begged “It's good news, I promise. But you need to listen to the whole thing.”

He growled, “Go on.”

“They…” she gulped “I found them in the Anti-Christ’s area and, Gabriel they looked so defeated…These past couple days have been hell for them.”

“So? Why should I care about an angel close to the fall?”

‘That’s just it, they aren’t close to it…they feel so ashamed of what they said.”

That got Gabriel’s attention “How so?” his voice was still ice though, and Michael could see a vein popping out from his forehead.

“They feel, empty, and scared, and regretful, like God has pulled away from them…and they miss their home. Whatever their feelings towards you were, they’ve changed after they’ve seen what casting out can do…” She paused; “Raphael realizes that…that they’d rather follow your orders than be separated from Heaven like this. They asked me to ask you to let them come back and prove it.” Michael felt like that last bit was a starch but, she stuck to it. 

“I never cast them out of Heaven.” Was his unfeeling reply. 

“Yes…but they feel the only way to return home is to get straight with you first…Please…just give them a chance…”

Gabriel sat down and leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. He sat in silence for what felt like hours before nodding, slowly and reluctantly. “I will…give them one chance to plead their case, only because of the news you shared earlier.” He sighed heavily and waved Michael away, “Go get them.”

Michael grinned “Thank you…truly.”

“Don’t thank me yet, they haven’t said anything to actually prove themself yet.”

“Of course.” Michael left as quickly as possible, barely resisting the urge to vomit. 

~

Raphael 

Michal had done the easy part of getting Raphael an audience, it was now up to the forsaken archangel. That thought ran through their head as they entered Gabriel’s office. Walking through the threahold of those bold double doors felt like crossing between the relams of Heaven and Hell. They met eachothers eyes, both hard, cold and unyeilding. One would have to yeild. Yet, looking at him looking at them brought on the very real emotion of grief. But not for wanting acceptance from an overlord. It was for Zadkiel and, the genuine feeling of being cut off from their home. They let themselves succumb to it and feel to their knees; hands clasped “Gabriel…”

“Raphael.” Disgust rolled off his tongue. 

“I-“

“Spare me the dramatics, Raphael. Get the hell up and face me.”

That made them pause for a moment, they hadn’t expected that reaction, it made them uneasy. Yet, they got up and dared to look their enemy in the eyes. “I just want to come home…” That much was true, just not for the reasons Gabriel thought.

“You always could.”

“You know what I mean…”

“Yes, your hatred for me has isolated you, hasn’t it?” A mean smile played on his lips “I seem to recall throwing a table, and blood.” The mocking made Raphael’s blood boil

Raphael winced in deception. “I’m tired of it, Gabriel…”

"Oh?”

They grimaced “You were…right…I can’t hold a grudge that threatens my divinity…God has chosen to let me stay an angel…” They held up their healed hand, but…we must be siblings again.”

Gabriel considered that then walked around his sibling a few times. It was a predatory action that chilled Raphael to the bones. “If you truly mean it…let your wings out.” He locked the door. 

Their breath caught in their throat; all the horrible things Gabriel could do to them ran through Raphael’s mind like wildfire.

Gabriel smirked smugly, “How can you expect my trust when you can’t give it to me in return?”

Of course, it made sense, sickening sense. But could they do it? When Gabriel could harm them in unimaginable ways in the name of acceptance and forgiveness? Raphael knew Gabriel had a cruel streak. Could they really subject themself to that? 

Their racing mind came to a screeching halt when Gabriel put a hand on their shoulder, “We are not enemies here.” A lie that Raphael had to pretend to believe 

It took everything in Raphael to not throw his arm off and run from the room and even more to nod and, to let their wings out and spread them wide. This was true vulnerability and they trembled under their sibling’s gaze.

Gabriel smiled menacingly, grip tightening instantly, “I never thought I’d get this chance."

Raphael stiffened, forcing themself to keep their wings spread. For Zadkiel, they repeated in their mind.

Gabriel traced his other hand over Raphael’s left wing in a graze that would have been tender if done by anyone else. Raphael shuttered, feathers ruffling.  
Gabriel chuckled “Relax, I couldn’t do a fellow angel’s wings any harm”

“That’s if you still consider me a fellow angel…”

“I do” he whispered.

Raphael felt a jolt of pain and pop. They gasped, Tears threatening to spill. “W-What-“

“I’ll take one feather for every thousand years of hatred, and one extra for your blasphemy.”

“Gabriel-“

“Be quiet.”

Raphael could only stand there, wings spread and humiliated as Gabriel slowly and deliberately cruelly plucked another feather and said “Repent.”

They clenched their jaw, no fucking way. 

Gabriel growled, “Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”

Raphael shuttered again “Only She can ask that of m-“

Gabriel grabbed a fist full of wing bone and squeezed manicured nails digging into flesh. Raphael gasped in pain and their hands shot together. Bile rose to the back of their throat. Gabriel was the one being Blasphemous, taking on the authority of God and the Metatron punishing Raphael without expressed permission from Her.

“No.” this was too far. 

Gabriel shoved Raphael to the ground with an angry strength and stood above them with hatred filled eyes. He slammed his foot against their back, between their wings, leaving them gasping for air and clawing at the ground. “Don’t blow this chance” he hissed lowly. He was letting out centuries of anger, finally. 

Raphael coughed so hard that they thought their chest might bleed. The pressure increased with every passing second until they felt almost delirious with panic and pain. Gabriel was clearly enjoying this. 

“Come on, Raph, just do what I say and it’ll stop. You want that, right?” 

They shook their head and heaved out “Y-You’re not G-God.”

The sound of their cracking against wood was deafening, and the pain of a broken nose was blinding. They were foolish to have ever let that son of a bitch get behind them. Their body twisted and they called out to something, or someone, they did not know. They struggled, pain lacing their vision with red until they had no more energy and simply stilled. Gabriel took the moment to drag them up by the hair to face him, “Mortals have done more to beg for our Lord’s acceptance, why can’t you?”

Why couldn’t they? Because it was wrong, and they were still so full of anger.

Gabriel dropped them to the ground and sighed “I really had hoped to do this the easy way, you know,” he undid his tie.

Raphael looked up at him through hazy eyes.

“Gabriel…” 

Everything in Raphael’s body screamed for relief, and for escape. They vaguely saw something come out of Gabriel’s desk…something long and leather.  
“Though I guess I don’t mind the hard way. And don’t worry, I'll avoid those wings.”

Raphael shuttered and rolled over onto their side, arms coming around their shaking body.

Just say the prayer, a little voice in their head shouted, before it gets worse before you suffer for nothing. 

Was it truly just a prayer? Or was it a crime? Did that even matter?

But then there was a fact that struck the archangel like a blow from the crop about to come down on them; there was no blood coming from parts that should bleed. No bloody nose, not internal bleeding from the pressure, not even from their wings. And it was this knowing in their heart of hearts that they were right that have them hope, If they were wrong, God would call down their blood and stain sacred ground once again, but she was here with Raphael, keeping them safe in some way. It was oddly comforting, that even after their Blasphemy, the Almighty still loved, or at least pitied her child. Fake repentance, after Her faith was back in them, would mean nothing more than humiliation. And that was better than pain.

“F-Fine…” They spat out, “I-If this is the only way you will let me have my home again.” 

Gabriel's hand stopped in midair, crop and all. He smirked again.

Raphael took a deep, shuttering breath and somehow pulled themself to their knees. The words were sour in the back of their throat, they hoped they were right. “Please God I seek forgiveness from blasphemy against you Lord…I realize that even though you know all about me I needed to confront my…my sin to you in order to receive forgiveness. I need your love to receive peace I am not…” Their eyes welled with tears and they pleaded to themself, please God have mercy on me and my ways, I am only trying to fix this brokenness. 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes “Continue”

They gulped “I am not…worthy of it but I am a sinner but I know now my life is yours. I do not own my life you do.”

They spoke the remaining lines slowly and accurately. Gabriel plucked five more feathers from their wings, waiting until the last line to slowly tear out the final one. When he had finished, Raphael collapsed on the floor and folded their wings back inside them.  
Gabriel clapped their back right where he stepped on it, “Welcome back, Raph.”

-

Raphael staggered out of the room and barely made it back to their office and locked the door before they crumbled to the ground and wailed. They shook, tried to cry but the tears did not come. All they could do was tremble and pull at the carpet, ripping out pieces and repeating a prayer for help over and over in their head until they couldn’t anymore. Even though they had succeeded, the failure of letting the other angel torture them yet again pricked at their soul.

“F-Fuck-“ Their tremoring hand reached for their pocket to grab the lighter and cigarette, but Gabriel had somehow taken those. That made them scream and crack their head back into the wall enough times to blur their vision. 

Somehow, they managed to stagger over to their desk and open the compartment that housed a large bottle of 500-year-old alcohol of some sort given to them by a king who had been particularly grateful. They ripped the top off and threw it down their throat, crashing the bottle against the wall when they were done draining and barely tasting the precious gift. They’d promised they’d drink for the first time with Zadkiel, another thing ruined, another dream crushed. 

But, It wasn’t enough. They must have, in a half-drunk state, tore their whole desk apart trying and failing to find something else to consume.

They’d been so busy trying to find relief that they hadn’t heard Michael at the door until five minutes after she’d arrived. And, when they finally threw open the door, they had a pen in their mouth to try and quell the itch to smoke.

Michael gasped and went as white as a bloodless creature could go. She rushed in and locked the door “W-What did he do to you?”

“Don’t fucking ask, I need to get the fuck out of here.” They tried to get past her, but she stopped them. “Raphael-“

“If you had just listened to me before then this wouldn’t have happened!” They shouted at her.

She stepped back in shock; her mouth hung open.

“Nothing to say as always!” They growled. “You don’t have one original thought in your head, do you?! It's either Lucifer, Gabriel, or me in there, huh?!” They pounded their first on the wall and screamed something awful. “Well fuck you, Michael! I should have burned your memory the minute you left me!”

They stumbled “Fuck you…” Hands ran through their hair, pulling out strands. “He took my Goddamn cigarettes!” they pounded the wall again, weaker this time “He took my-my Goddamn fucking cig…my fucking cigarettes …” They sank to the floor in a heap and, finally, the tears came. 

And, somehow, Michael understood the real gravity behind that meaningless loss, and she blinked back tears of her own. Her friend’s body looked wrecked; Gabriel had done something awful in there. 

“It's okay” She took their hands gently “I’m here, and I won’t ask…”

~

Michael 

Michael helped her friend come back from the brink of oblivion then, she helped them clean up their space, then, she sat in silence with them, waiting for them to speak. 

When Raphael did speak, it was quiet and labored “It’s done now…”

“Yes…” Her heart ached for how much Raphael looked like their old lover right now. How broken they seemed.

“…and we need to move on from it.” They said with pretend determination, “or it’ll be for nothing.”

“Or it will be for nothing” Michael echoed.

She watched Raphael stand up, then purge alcohol from their system, putting it in a few plastic bottles they had lying around. 

They groaned and leaned their head back against the hole they’d made in the wall earlier. 

Michael just watched, waiting for the next move to be clear.

Raphael finally stood straight and fixed Michael with one of their smirks. It didn’t reach their vacant, emotionless, eyes, “You said there was a meeting?”

“Raphael I don’t think-“

“I didn’t get my-“ They stopped themself “I didn’t kiss up to Gabriel for him to lose his trust in me an hour later, let’s go to the damn thing.”

Fair enough, Michael thought. There was to time to worry about her friend now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written for this series. I'm so excited to be so close to the main climax, I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever serious fanfic despite being in so many fandoms. I just adore the Good Omens Fandom and all the incredible authors who write about it so, I just had to join in. I hope you liked this first chapter and thank you for reading!


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